Falling
by CrystallicSky
Summary: A closer look at how Jack Spicer was able to worm his way past all of Chase's defenses for this kind of thing and become his most important person...and how he managed this impossible task in only a couple of years. CHACK
1. Chapter 1

**Falling**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

Twenty minutes.

Compared to the usual _five _he was allowed to simply relax and enjoy himself before the persistent grating screech started up again, a full twenty seemed like something of a miracle. However, Chase was unable to call forth any gratitude for the longer reprieve.

This may have had something to do with the fact that it hadn't even been Wuya he'd slept with on this occasion—neither she nor her irritating voice should even be _present._

Unfortunately, it was hard to refute the reality of the purple ghost in his kitchen utterly destroying his post-sex tranquility with her mean and ugly scowl.

"What are your intentions?!" Wuya snapped at him.

Chase stared. "I was intending on having toast," he replied after a moment, gesturing to the room around them, "but I get the strangest feeling that isn't going to happen."

"Playing dumb is hardly your game, Chase," she hissed. "I meant _Jack_!"

"Well, of course. Spicer is the master at that particular tactic. It simply isn't fair to pit my meager skills against his."

If looks could kill, there would be _two _ghosts in the kitchen. As it was, there remained only one impotently angry one and a warlord trying very hard not to laugh in her face.

"You fucked him!" Wuya growled.

Chase spared a brief thought to Jack, probably still passed out in his bed. "Yes," he said coolly, "I did. What is your point?"

"What are you planning?" the ghostly witch demanded to know.

Chase frowned. "You assume I'm planning something."

"Why _else_ would you have saddled yourself with Jack?" asked Wuya. "Knowing you, it's gotta be something _big._"

"Most things about me are," Chase agreed, raising an eyebrow, "but 'saddled'? Really, Wuya, I had _sex _with him. I hardly put a ring on his finger."

There was a pause where Wuya only looked at Chase…and then burst out cackling.

It was enough to startle a glare out of the overlord, but Wuya was unaffected by the look.

"Is that really what you think, Chase?" she practically snickered, hovering just in front of him. "Have you _met _him?"

Chase chose not to dignify that with a response. It was just as well, since Wuya seemed to need no prompting to continue.

"Jack has stalked you for years—do you think he even understands the _concept_ of 'just sex' as it applies to you?" She smirked. "No, Chase, Jack _clings_; always has, really. I must've overestimated you if you actually think he'll be so easy to get rid of after you gave him exactly what he wanted!"

Chase _bristled._ "No, Wuya, I'd say you _underestimate _me," he said curtly. "You really believe I wouldn't have accounted for Spicer's persistence?"

The grin slipped from Wuya's ghostly face. "You did?"

"Of course I did. In fact, I'm counting _on _it." Chase straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. "You want to know my plans for him, witch? I intend to distract him."

"Why?"

Chase shot her a perfectly condescending look. "Wuya. He is a nuisance at the best of times and a train wreck at the worst. Has it escaped your notice that his failures have a tendency to spill over into the work of true villains like ourselves?"

Wuya answered slowly, a consequence of the conversational whiplash. "I…of course. Screwing up is what he _does._ Why would he stop at screwing up his _own _plans?"

"Exactly," Chase agreed, "and you know that he only gets worse at it when left to his own devices."

"His mind wanders too much," the witch acknowledged. "At least when he works with someone else, he's forced to _try _and focus on one thing for more than five minutes."

"And at the moment, Spicer isn't allied with anyone. Not the ideal climate for Heylin with anything important in the works."

Wuya perked. "You _are _planning something!"

Chase offered her a wry grin. "Whether or not that's the case, you aren't involved. But you should probably thank me—I'm biting _quite _the bullet here."

Huffing out a laugh, Wuya shook her head. "Thank you," she echoed. "Of course: Chase Young, the altruist, always ready to sacrifice himself for his fellows."

Chase rolled his eyes. "Did I _say _helping you was my motive in providing a distraction for Jack?" he demanded. "I'm helping myself first and foremost. That he'll also be too busy to interfere with you is merely a latent effect. A little gratitude still wouldn't go awry, being that no one else was going to step up to the plate on this one."

"Gratitude. Because your 'distraction tactics' are _so_unpleasant for you."

"Another thing I most definitely didn't say," Chase smirked. "If I'm to throw myself to the metaphorical wolves, why _shouldn't _I find something in it to make it worth my while?"

"Maybe because it's _Jack_?" Wuya wondered, sounding haughty and very certain as she continued, "You can't find him attractive."

"Can't I?" Chase looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I seem to recall finding _you _attractive at one time. You should know better than anyone that my tastes run towards the unique."

"…at _one time_?" Again, Wuya floated right up to Chase, probably in an attempt to be intimidating. It didn't seem very effective. "You don't find me attractive now?"

Chase sneered. "You're a _ghost, _Wuya," he pointed out.

"When I'm not a ghost!"

"Ah," said the warlord. "In that case, still no, I'm not particularly attracted to you."

"So what," she snapped, "all those nights in your bed meant nothing?"

Chase frowned at her. "Yes. You were very convenient, but I'm hardly about to put a ring on _your _finger, either. I'm beginning to think that if anyone has trouble understanding the concept of 'just sex,' it's you, not Spicer."

Apparently, Wuya didn't appreciate the comment and her voice returned to the irritating screech Chase so loathed. "And you think Jack is a better choice than _me_?!"

Chase only shrugged. "As entertaining as your…lackluster performances have been as of late? I don't have much to go on yet, but Jack's enthusiasm covered his inexperience well so again, I would have to say yes."

Wuya reared back, sputtering incoherently in a strange combination of shock and outrage.

"Not to mention," Chase continued, "that he happens to have a physical body where you, currently, do not. Though I'm not sure how much leverage a body would give you in a competition: he _is_a great deal younger than you."

There was half a beat of silence before Wuya quite literally _shrieked _in sheer fury, probably cursing her incorporeal form that she couldn't even lash out against him.

Chase was incredibly appreciative that instead of trying, she simply took the hint and vanished. She would be back to annoy him eventually (she always would), but in his line of work especially, the dragonlord had learned to take what measure of peace he could.

In the wake of said peace, Chase resumed his waylaid goal of procuring toast and silently praised his own silver tongue.

In all honesty, very little thought and planning had gone into the decision to have sex with Jack Spicer. It had been a spur of the moment thing, a strange impulse followed through on short notice with no real plot or greater motive behind it.

These were not altogether uncommon, despite his reputation as a schemer and a mastermind. It just so happened that his pursuit of the odd whim now and again was very rarely brought to attention and when it was…

Well. _That _particular scenario had played out only moments ago: it was never very difficult for his quick wit to rationalize any of his less than well thought out actions. It probably also helped that it had been literally centuries since the last time Chase Young had stumbled over a lie or an obfuscation.

Of course now, leaning up against a counter and beginning on his fourth piece of toast, it occurred to Chase that what he'd said to Wuya wasn't really a _lie._Aside from the implication that he'd fully meant to sleep with Jack, nothing he'd told her was untrue.

The explosive nature of Spicer's failures was practically legendary in Heylin circles and the only thing that had ever seemed to insulate the ensuing damage was to give the self-proclaimed genius someone to work with. Jack could _almost _color inside the lines when he had someone to answer to, but no one had bothered to take up that mantle as of late and the overflow of mishaps was…actually quite impressive, in a way.

Usually, it was Wuya who took on Spicer-sitting duty. It had fallen to her fairly naturally being that _she _had unleashed him onto the Heylin just as he had unleashed her from her prison, and very few other villains were willing to collaborate with her given her track record of betrayals.

That being the case, Chase found it especially odd that Wuya _wasn't _currently attempting to make use of Jack given her physical state—not having her own body had always defaulted her to working with him in the past.

Still, the witch hadn't been wrong about Spicer's tendency to cling which meant Chase was probably stuck with him for a bit. He had little interest in doing evil with him (or rather, what Jack _thought _of as evil), but providing himself as a 'distraction' would hardly be a chore.

Chase grinned to himself in the silence of the kitchen, fondly remembering the look on Wuya's face when he'd told her that Spicer was a better lay than her. It was all the more amusing for the fact that it was yet another truth: a clumsy, inept _virgin _boy ending up superior to a skilled and seasoned femme fatale like Wuya.

The dragonlord decided to put it down to the sheer novelty of the experience, but he couldn't deny that sex with Jack had been interesting or that he would do it again.

Yes. Yes, he would do it again, was _going _to, as a matter of fact. There was no better way to determine Jack's worth as a replacement for Wuya than by trials.

A thought called the nearest of his minions to him and within a minute, a jaguar prowled silently into the room.

"Diol," Chase greeted the cat. "Has Spicer left yet?"

_I don't believe so, master,_ Diol answered. _Would you like him to be removed?_

Chase shook his head and pushed off of the counter. "Not yet. I was simply curious as to his whereabouts."

_In that case, he hasn't left your bedroom._

"Excellent." Absently, he tossed what remained of his toast to Diol, who caught it with a sharp snap of teeth and the crunch of bread. "Until further notice, he is to be treated as an indefinite guest rather than an intruder."

The cat blinked yellow eyes at Chase. 'Indefinite guest' was a familiar enough classification, but one that had only ever been used in regards to those who provided a…specific service in the (relatively) long-term. Wuya had been one, until she lost her body again. _Master?_

"Merely trying something new, Diol," Chase replied, practically radiating a devil-may-care attitude. "If he's not up to snuff, your orders will change."

And with that, Chase cheerily dismissed his underling and headed back to his room to properly test Spicer's worth.

As it turned out, Jack would end up holding the indefinite guest designation for _much _longer than expected.

Granted, 'expected' in this scenario had only really covered a period of a few days—the typical amount of time it took for Chase to tire of having a novelty in his bed—but that moment of boredom simply didn't come.

Leave it to Jack Spicer to do the unexpected, he supposed, though for once, he was glad of it. It had been a _very _long time since he'd had a sexual partner of any quality.

Whatever else could be said about him, Jack was nothing if not enthusiastic and willing to throw himself into a situation wholeheartedly. To Chase's very literal pleasure, this same attitude bled over into the bedroom and made the young man a very…passionate lover, to say the least.

It was a nice change for Chase, who had grown used to a different type of lover entirely: the selfish kind. To the dragonlord's great irritation, many seemed to use a proposition from an attractive and powerful man as an excuse not to try very hard in bed.

At one point, it had pissed Chase off enough to subtly pry an explanation out of one of the worst offenders.

"Well, _look_ at you," a very drunk Wuya had slurred at him that night. "You're practically the avatar of sex—sex personified! What'm I supposed to do to you that you haven't had a million times before? _Better, _probably!"

It was only the stroke to his ego that had kept him from growling at her or storming out, instead only muttering, "That's no excuse."

As far as Chase was concerned, it _still _wasn't an excuse, especially now that he had Jack to hold up as a proper example.

Spicer had nothing in the way of sexual experience barring his encounters with Chase, who could, if so inclined, write encyclopedias on the topic. By Wuya's lazy logic, he had more excuse than anyone to just lie there and enjoy the things Chase did to him.

Jack _did_ enjoy himself (quite loudly at times, which was another ego-stroke) but he would never just _lie _there. He surprised Chase with an unexpectedly careful attention to detail instead, which he put to use picking up technique from his better-traveled partner, flavoring it with his own unique style, and consistently altering his overall performance; taking all the right cues from Chase as to what he liked and what he didn't.

Spicer used his inexperience as an excuse, too, but one to _learn _instead of to slack. His consideration in that respect had earned him several well-deserved weeks of serving his evil idol and Jack was shaping up to be a model student.

In more than the one respect, actually.

"Ow! Easy on the arm…"

Chase pulled back, obligingly lifting his hand and raising an eyebrow at the dark purple bruise that was uncovered. "I barely touched you. _Tell_ me that was preexisting—even you can't be _that _delicate."

Jack made a face and rubbed at his bare bicep. "That was already there," he confirmed. "I, uh…earlier…with the…yeah."

"Earlier. When you made yourself a convenient punching bag for the Xiaolin."

"Made myself—" Jack flushed and frowned. "It's _my _fault they beat me up?!"

"Hard to think any differently when you set yourself up for it," Chase dismissively replied. His fingers then found their way beneath the hem of Jack's shirt.

They were quickly paused by a white hand around his wrist, the grip light but firm.

Chase stopped and looked at Jack. "You wouldn't have come if you felt too injured for sex," he said rather than asked.

Jack shook his head. "No," he said, "that's not… What did you mean? How do I…set myself up?"

Ah. Another of _these _conversations.

Changing gears easily, Chase removed Jack's hand. "Your bragging: it gets you into trouble."

"How?" Jack pushed.

"I'm sure you've heard the saying. Something about mouths writing checks?" He gave Jack a teasing grin. "Aside from conveniently providing your opponent with a time advantage, you're also making it that much more humiliating for yourself when you lose."

"_If_I lose," Jack insisted with something just a tad too serious to be called a pout. "I've been winning a lot more lately."

And that, Chase would give him, but nonetheless, "_When _you lose. Your boasting has led directly to failure one hundred percent of the time. Are you denying that particular statistic?"

Jack's mouth flattened into a hard line. "No…evidence to refute it," he sheepishly admitted. "So…what?"

There was no need to elaborate on the question. This was hardly the first time Chase had provided a critique on Jack's villainy and hardly the first time Jack had asked for suggestions.

"Mind your tongue a bit more," he offered simply. "Stay focused on the moment instead of letting your mouth get ahead of you. Save the bluster for afterwards, if it's still called for."

Jack still looked uncertain, so he added, "I'm not saying you have to be _modest, _but an attempt at realism would serve you well."

"Because you've never bragged about anything in your life, right?"

Chase laughed. "I have, but when I brag, I have the skill to back it up. You?" He lightly flicked Jack in the nose. "Not so much."

Jack snorted and rubbed his nose, but there was a smile in his eyes and an ease in his body language that told Chase he took no real offense. Like the other tidbits of advice he had given the youth in the past few weeks, this would be taken seriously, slept on, and probably acted upon fairly soon.

That was another thing Chase liked about Jack—that his eagerness to learn wasn't _only_ relegated to sex. That he was willing to listen to Chase's various suggestions and take initiative to improve _exponentially _lessened the vague feeling of embarrassment that used to accompany the thought of sleeping with Spicer.

Speaking of.

Chase settled a hand on Jack's hip, leaning in again with a smirk. "Now, if we're finished talking…?"

Jack met his smirk with an easy grin. "I know _I _am," he said. "I can think of…hmm, maybe six better things to do with my mouth."

"_Only _six?"

Jack chuckled, lips already parted to deliver some kind of retort.

The click of claws on the polished marble floor interrupted whatever he had been about to say.

_Master, you have a visitor,_ a young lioness politely declared. She took note of Jack and his proximity to the overlord. _Shall I tell her to come back later?_

"Her?" There weren't all that many female visitors to the Land of Nowhere.

_Katnappé, master,_ the cat explained. _She claims to have a business proposition for you._

Well, Chase couldn't deny that he was curious about that. "I will see her," he decided. "Eshe, escort Spicer to the bath in the meantime."

Jack frowned at him, clearly confused. Naturally, as Chase's warriors could only be heard by others when they _made _themselves heard. "Chase? What's up?"

"Nothing of importance," Chase assured him. "I merely have to see to something. I had assumed you might wish to occupy yourself until I'm finished."

"Oh." Jack seemed to relax a bit at that information, sparing a glance to the lioness coming up beside him. "Are we still gonna…?"

"After dinner, if you plan on staying that long." Never let it be said that Chase was at all a churlish host.

Jack laughed. "What else would I be doing?"

A fair enough point. Jack still had little in the way of a social life. Even so, Chase smiled and bid him an amiable farewell, not at all missing the mischievous promise of _later _sparkling in Jack's red eyes.

He would most definitely savor the wait, but for now, Chase had a second guest to deal with.

He materialized into his throne just in time to catch said guest on her knees, trying to tempt Chase's second-in-command away from his post with baby-talk and a fish-shaped hunk of processed something.

"You'll need a more attractive lure than a cat treat to sway Diol," he declared, unable to keep from flashing a bit of fang at the way Katnappé leapt to her feet and turned red as Jack's hair. "He was a soldier once. I think you'll find him more disciplined than the average house pet."

"Um…yes, I can see that," the blonde girl muttered, obviously trying to buy a moment or two to regain her composure. "When was he a soldier?"

There was no real interest in the question, but Chase was in a fairly good mood and feeling generous. He'd allow Ashley her time. "He was part of an elite military class several hundred years ago." He paused to stroke Diol's sleek black fur as he came to sit at his overlord's side. "They were called 'jaguar warriors'—I found the best of them and made it a more literal title."

_And what an honor that was, to become a true child of Tezcatlipoca and serve under your command, master, _Diol purred back. Katnappé startled in the otherwise quiet of the room, which could only mean he was projecting.

"Yes, of course. I'm simply glad you were easily disabused of the notion that it was _Quetzalcoatl _you were serving."

_Well, your lizard form **does** have a conspicuous lack of feathers, _was the glib reply and Chase managed to make a noncommittal noise instead of a laugh.

Dignity was important with an audience, after all.

"In any case," he spoke, turning his attention back to the young lady in a (literal) catsuit, "I'm told you have a proposition for me."

"Actually," said Katnappé, "I had more of a negotiation in mind."

"Oh?" That was intriguing. "What kind of negotiation?"

"I have a little something in the works," she admitted. "I don't need your involvement, but—"

"But I have something you want," Chase concluded. "I see. And just what is it that you're hoping to be loaned or given?"

"_Loaned, _thank you," Katnappé responded quickly. "I really don't think I could put up with Jack on a regular basis."

In response to the name, Chase blinked, but his confusion was not otherwise expressed. For clarification, he queried, "Spicer?"

Katnappé continued with a nod, as though it were a perfectly normal request. "I don't want to bore you with any specifics, but I could really use a hand or two on the tech side of things and everybody knows Jack's got the best pair in the business."

Chase was still, to his own irritation, vaguely perplexed. "And you're here consulting _me _for…?"

"Your permission," she said. "You know, to borrow him for awhile."

Which still didn't make all that much sense, as far as Chase was concerned. "What makes you think you need my permission?" he asked, keeping his tone devoid of any sort of inflection. Ashley most certainly did _not _need to know that he had no idea what she was on about.

Nonetheless, the question seemed to throw the girl, who suddenly looked uncertain. "…um. Because he's one of yours… Right?"

And that was where it all clicked in Chase's head. _One of his_: Katnappé believed Jack to be his _underling_!

It was a ridiculous enough notion that the overlord may have laughed outright had it not also been somewhat offensive.

Jack Spicer was a good sex partner, certainly—and not to devalue him in that respect, but it was about the only thing he _was _good at. He was a subpar fighter and a mediocre villain at best. Like Katnappé had said, his skill with technology was unparalleled, but it was hardly enough to make up for his other…defects.

The implication that Chase's 'relationship' with him was more than a simple arrangement was both irksome and just a tad distasteful.

"One of mine," he echoed her words. "What led you to that assumption?"

"It's not my assumption!" the blond was quick to clarify. "It's just…that's been the word on the street, and I thought…"

Chase gave her a hard look, less of an invitation to continue than a demand to.

She complied. "Jack's been…less of an embarrassment lately," Ashley explained. "We've all seen it…seen _him _actually winning a Showdown every couple of weeks instead of just getting his butt kicked all the way back home. He's getting better, and…"

There was a noticeable pause where Katnappé shot him a hesitant glance, though she quickly continued. "Well. It's not really a secret that he's been hanging out around here a lot. If anybody could set him straight, it'd be you."

Flattery. An excellent tactic for appeasing a warlord and it did its job well enough. Instead of growling at her for her assumptions, Chase merely crossed one leg over the other and bowed his head in a small gesture of agreement.

"You are correct on one point," he declared. "Spicer's improvements, however minor, are most likely due to my influence. Nonetheless…"

Chase had been about to explain to the obviously misguided young woman the true nature of his association with Jack. Given but another minute or so to speak, he probably would have told her that his only connection to the albino in question was sex and that he was more than content for it to stay that way—and while she was at it, could she please pass on to the other Heylin that he was _not _Spicer's keeper, thank you very much.

Katnappé did not give him that minute. "He's not," she interrupted. "Not yours, I mean."

Though it was almost exactly what Chase had planned to say, her tone gave him pause. There was something in it…something that sent him from 'calm' to 'wary' in the space of a second.

"You sound excited," he responded slowly. "Of what concern is Spicer's current status to you?"

"He has his uses," Katnappé responded brightly. "He's hardly the cream of the crop as far as allies go, but he's not the bottom of the barrel anymore. If he's on the market…" She grinned, showing off her false fangs. "It's something I'd be interested in, yes."

That sounded much too simple a reason. Mere interest, in _Jack Spicer, _no less, could not have gotten his hackles up so quickly.

"Really?" Chase wondered aloud. "And yet you said only moments ago that you could barely tolerate him."

The blond woman shrugged. "I don't have to like him to work with him," she noted. A moment later, she added, "Just like you don't have to like him to fuck him."

If she had expected to throw Chase with a statement like that, she was in for a disappointment.

"Jealous, Ashley?" he all but teased.

Katnappé was startled into a laugh. "I thought that might've just been part of the rumors! But you're really…?"

Chase looked at her, carefully while feigning casualness. "It was never a secret."

"Interesting. As for _jealous,_ maybe a little." It was only because he was watching closely that he noticed the inviting tilt of her hip, the coy way she'd cocked her head…and the utterly mean smirk of her lips as she proclaimed, "_Jack _is pretty cute when he's not a 24/7 loser."

Chase met her gaze and stiffened at the steely glint he saw in her dark eyes. Before he could attempt to process it, a single word skittered through his mind: _poacher!_

And that was exactly it, wasn't it?

It wasn't that Katnappé had a professional interest in Jack. It wasn't even that she appeared to have a sexual interest in him, as well. It was the principle of the thing that had his hackles up, that made him wary, that irritated him because Katnappé was talking like she wanted to _steal _Spicer.

Theft was, of course, difficult without ownership and Chase did not own Jack. But when he considered it… _didn't _he?

Chase had been in association with Spicer for several weeks, going on a month now and in that time, he'd been the one to counsel the youth on all things Heylin. When Jack had questions or wanted input, Chase had been the one to give it to him. When he acted foolishly or made himself a pest, it was Chase who told him so and advised him to correct the behavior. On the sexual side of things, Chase had almost literally taught Jack everything he now knew, the goth's only other teacher being a(n impressive) variety of pornography.

It was true that Spicer was still far from anything spectacular, but he _was _improving; rapidly, now that Chase cared to think of it.

And of course, now that someone else had done most of the work handling his roughest edges, Katnappé suddenly found an alliance with the self-proclaimed tech-wizard appealing.

Really, there was nothing that disgusted Chase more than the thought of _his_ efforts going towards someone _else's _benefit.

"Spicer is not one of mine."

Katnappé smirk widened into a grin. "That's great to hear. I'll—"

"Spicer is _not _one of mine," Chase said again, "officially."

Katnappé frowned.

"_Un_officially," he continued, "he has taken on duties befitting both my apprentice and my consort. To hold both positions at once is, as you can imagine, demanding, time-consuming, and exhausting." He returned her mean smile from earlier. "I'm afraid there isn't any room in his current schedule for whatever petty scheme you want him for."

Though she huffed and was clearly agitated, the villainess seemed to at least know better than to try and push Chase on the decision. "I take it that's a 'permission denied'?" she asked instead of arguing, resignation coloring her tone.

"Permission _expressly _denied, Ms. Rockow."

Ashley's mouth twitched in distaste at hearing her given name over her chosen one, but she refused to otherwise react. She turned to take her leave, stopping only to address Chase once more.

"Jack's off the market. Point taken. But," she warned, "it might be in your best interest to make that common knowledge. I doubt I'm the only one interested and 'unofficially yours' is still 'technically available.'"

Katnappé resumed her exit and Diol left the side of the throne to escort her out at a mental nudge from his master.

Chase did not stay long enough to see the door slam behind her. He was taken by a much more pressing urge to make up for the time he'd wasted with a girl who dressed up like a cat.

It didn't take him long to make his way to the bathing chambers, large and open and utterly extravagant, just the way he'd built them. It was not just an area for getting clean and also featured several other water-related luxuries, such as a pool and an artificial river. This naturally made it an ideal space to entertain guests, few as Chase tended to have.

Between that and the fact of Spicer's unsubtle jealousy of the dragonlord's jacuzzi, it was no surprise that Chase had sent him there to wait—or that he was exactly where Chase expected him to be.

Submerged to his shoulders, Jack didn't react when Chase came to stand before the hot tub in only his black silk clothes. To an untrained observer, he seemed to be asleep, but Chase fully recognized the meditative technique he had idly taught the goth only a week ago.

For one brief moment, the thought made him want to laugh at himself. _How _had he not seen what he'd been grooming Jack towards?

"Up for company, Spicer?"

Jack's eyes snapped open, obviously startled until he realized who was addressing him. "Chase," he noted happily, greeting his 'unofficial' master. "Absolutely. You take care of whatever business you had?"

"I did," Chase assured him, stripping off his remaining clothing. "Did you enjoy yourself while I was otherwise occupied?"

Jack offered him a crooked smile as he was joined in the magma-heated water. "You _know_ I did," he declared. "I really don't understand how I _don't _have a hot tub. There's nothing better than this after a painful and humiliating defeat."

The comment drew Chase's attention to the bruises scattered here and there on Jack's body. It was not unusual to see them whenever he got Spicer some degree of naked and he had gotten used to the never-fading, migrating marks. They had never bothered him before, but in this new light of his conversation with Katnappé…

No apprentice of Chase Young, official or otherwise, should be sporting bruises from his enemies.

Though he'd already made up his mind, Chase decided to gauge Jack's feelings on the matter. "Speaking of your humiliating defeats…would you be interested in learning how to avoid them?"

The easy grin dropped off of Jack's face. "I…you mean, like, more coaching or whatever?"

"I was thinking something a little more _hands on._" He punctuated this with a stroke over Jack's bruised arm, the stain of blood looking even more colorful than it had earlier on the flushed pink of his skin. "There are ways to fight that don't involve getting tossed around like a ragdoll, if you'd be willing to learn them."

Spicer was on him so fast Chase almost wondered if he might not have supernatural speed, too. Chase returned the passionate kiss (albeit with an air of amusement) and tugged Jack closer by the wrist.

Not that he didn't enjoy the impromptu make-out, but Chase deliberately kept the kiss short. He _did _actually want an answer to his question and if Jack needed his lips and tongue to provide it, then so be it.

"Yes," Jack told him upon pulling back, just a tad sheepish. "I, uh…that'd be awesome, really. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Chase replied. "I'm far more interested in picking up where we left off, first."

Whether he meant prior to Katnappé's visit or just a few seconds earlier didn't particularly matter, because Jack was probably able to guess what he was getting at. He _did _happen to be in the dragonlord's lap and could undoubtedly feel the hardness pressed up against his thigh.

Sure enough, both lust and understanding flickered across Jack's face and were quickly replaced by a downright impish look. "I thought you said after dinner?"

Chase smirked at him. "Change of plans," he said. "Unless you disapprove?"

Jack laughed and very pointedly did not resist as Chase lifted him out of the water and settled him onto the edge of the tub.

"I totally approve," he decided and leaned back on his hands, giving the other man convenient access to whatever part of him he wanted.

As far as Chase was concerned, the issue was settled and within a week, Jack Spicer had _officially _begun his apprentice-and-consortship.

Most of that week had been spent as something of a trial period, with Chase giving the goth minor instruction and gauging his reaction to it. If the results were satisfactory, or at least a tiny bit promising, _then _Chase had intended to follow through with a claim.

Luckily, Spicer took extremely well to the training. As he confessed when this was suspiciously pointed out, Jack had taken several forays into martial arts in the past and was actually fairly educated on the philosophical and intellectual aspects of it. The only thing he'd lacked for those attempts was an experienced teacher (or _any _teacher at all), which rather explained his continued failure at execution.

The dedication to improvement those research attempts had shown, though—_that _had impressed Chase. Jack had been given the offer on the spot and his response was quite a bit more indecent and passionate than a kiss.

With agreement on both sides, the pact went ahead and the news was quickly circulated that Chase Young had taken his first legitimate apprentice ever—and that anyone wishing to contest his choice had a limited window in which to do so.

That part was something of an old rule for taking an apprentice, perhaps a bit outdated, but Chase was nothing if not a traditionalist and besides, leaving the challenge open sent the perfect message.

To Jack, it said that he was serious about the offer and could rely on his master to defend him when necessary. To the other Heylin, it showed that he was willing to fight to keep his apprentice, which served as a warning to think twice before trying anything stupid. As for the Xiaolin, it was little more than a dare; something that said, 'stop me if you _can_.'

Even with his newfound skills, though, Spicer was…less than popular. Chase had never _really _expected anyone to challenge his claim.

It quickly occurred to him that this was something of an oversight. He only wished he had realized as much _before _he found himself staring down at a Xiaolin monk.

"Really?" he couldn't help but ask.

Omi looked far sterner than he had any business being, glaring up at the warlord from roughly navel height. Chase made a mental note that his young foe had undergone a growth spurt since last he'd seen him.

"I am well within my rights to contest your claiming of Jack Spicer," he declared. "I do not understand your surprise."

"Perhaps _I _do not understand your motives," Chase suggested. "When I issued the challenge, I had no idea that Spicer was in demand. What use could you possibly have for him?"

"I have no intentions to _use _him at all."

Chase frowned. "Yet you challenge me for the right to him."

Omi squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. Chase respected him enough not to laugh at the picture it made. "I challenge you _because _you would use him!" Omi snapped. "Jack Spicer does not deserve to be tricked by you twice."

Amusement faded quickly from Chase's demeanor. "You believe my claim is a deception," he inferred.

"It has been so before," Omi said bluntly.

"It is not so now," Chase returned. "I have taken him because I believe he has potential and I would not see it wasted. There is no other motive."

"You will forgive me if I have doubts."

"Really, Omi, how unoriginal do you presume I am?" he almost sneered. "I would never use the same ruse twice, much less on the same individuals."

Omi frowned, tucking his hands into his sleeves. "Perhaps not," he allowed, "but I have been scorched before."

Chase rarely had trouble translating the monk's mangled slang: he meant he'd fallen prey to repeated schemes in the past. The thought made him smirk a little. "Considering it was _Spicer _who tricked you, one would think you'd be a bit less eager to come to his rescue."

Omi stoically refused to rise to the taunt and Chase felt a vague wash of pity that he'd been unable to reach this young man all those years ago. He had true skill and could have been great had he chosen evil—but he'd chosen a boring life of goodness and the strict morals that came with it.

Sad, really, but Chase had long since decided to respect his choice.

Speaking of, "What exactly _is _your plan, Omi? You wish to fight me over Spicer, perhaps win him from me…and then what? Will you force him to become Xiaolin?"

"Of course not!" Omi sounded shocked and offended at the very idea. "I would not claim to own him. He may do as he chooses once I free him from you."

"As he chooses," Chase reiterated. "And if he has chosen me?"

Omi faltered for a response long enough that Chase took a step closer, bringing a guiding hand to his back. Though the dragon of water looked up at him warily, he did not step away.

"Come, young monk," Chase encouraged, pressing lightly. "I'd like to show you something."

Omi allowed himself to be led over to a seemingly empty spot. With a gesture from Chase, the Eye Spy Orb rose up from the floor and presented the two of them with an image from elsewhere in the palace.

Jack was precisely where Chase had left him in order to attend to Omi's challenge—with Diol, who had continued the day's training in his stead.

Omi watched with him as the two of them sparred, taking only a few seconds of observation before asking, "Hou Quan?"

Chase smiled despite himself, but did not take his eyes off Jack, who had just employed a very nice backflip as a dodge. "I felt it would be best to start with a style that played to his strengths," he explained. "He's fast and flexible, but not very strong and when he does take hits, he's damaged easily. It's better for him to focus on evasion and learn to strike at the weakest spots when his opponents get close."

"And he's already had experience with _monkey style,_" Omi concluded.

Chase's grin broadened and he was reminded to steal the Monkey Staff back from the temple's vault for Spicer's use. It would serve as a nice crutch until his skills improved, and after it would surely be a favorite toy.

"So he has," he agreed aloud, watching as his minion finally landed a hit that knocked Jack flat on his ass and then extended a hand to help him back up. As Spicer reached out and took it, Chase pointed. "_That _is what I wanted you to see."

Omi looked closer, squinting at the blurry band of black around Jack's arm. "The marking?"

Chase nodded. "The marking is actually a collection of Heylin runes," he said. The sparring continued and showed off the identical tattoos on both of Jack's biceps. "In short, they're a magical manifestation of the claim I have staked on him."

Omi turned to face him with wide eyes. "A binding spell?"

"Yes. If I'm to teach him to be dangerous, I'd like the assurance that he won't be turned against me, by his own will or otherwise." He gestured again toward the runes. "Those markings ensure that he will be physically incapable of attacking me so long as I maintain my claim on him."

"How will you train him if he cannot attack you?"

"There is a difference between sparring and an attack," Chase pointed out. "The spell works mostly by intention. Treachery or the goal of homicide, to give a few examples, would freeze his hands without question."

Omi nodded in understanding and returned his attention to the Eye Spy Orb, where Jack very narrowly avoided being struck in the face by using a move that put Chase in mind of a push puppet. It had definitely _not _been taught to him and it warmed the everlord's black heart to know that his apprentice was bringing to fighting the same sort of innovation he'd brought to the bedroom.

"The binding has taken his ability to go against you," Omi announced after a moment, almost abruptly. "What has it taken from you?"

Magic _was _always a give-and-take. If you wanted one thing, you would have to give up another.

"I may not take another apprentice," he told the monk.

Omi blinked, very noticeably startled. "_Ever_?"

Chase shook his head. "Only while I keep him in my service," he clarified. "If I dismiss him or replace him with another apprentice, it counts as relinquishing my claim over him. With the denouncement of the claim, his binding is nullified and he may act as he chooses in regards to me."

Chase felt Omi's eyes on him quite keenly and he knew even before meeting them that the youth was inspecting him; sizing him up and trying to determine whether or not his foe was speaking the truth.

He was, of course, and Omi eventually came to that conclusion on his own.

"Very well," he said slowly. "I shall believe for now that this is not one of your games." Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "If it is, you would do well to be careful."

Chase felt a strange prickle of amusement and confusion. That sounded an awful lot like a _threat, _and from a Xiaolin monk!

"Who have I to fear?" he asked, mouth twitching into a small grin. "You and yours?" The other monks had not even accompanied Omi here!

But Omi's answer surprised him for he simply replied, "Your apprentice."

For the first time in a very long time, Chase was just a bit too staggered to mask his expression. The confusion on his face was enough invitation for Omi to explain.

"If you are playing games," he said, utterly serious, "you would do well to remember that Jack Spicer is a sore loser."

And then, Omi was activating the Golden Tiger Claws he'd used to come, gone between one moment and the next.

Chase stared at where the portal had been maybe a few seconds longer than he intended to. If his foe's words lingered in his mind, he told himself it was because it was the first time he'd ever heard Omi use an idiom correctly.

He soon found himself looking back to the Eye Spy Orb, still displaying the play-fight between his second-in-command and his apprentice. The two of them were lovely to watch, Diol with his dark skin and quiet ruthlessness pit against Jack, stark white and all flash and cunning and _vibrance._

Chase looked closely and took note of the strange ferocity he saw on Jack's face when he made to attack, lunging straight for the eyes with a flawless monkey claw. He wondered what it was like to be on the receiving end of that look, that attack.

It was a brief thought, because it was quickly followed by the thought of the same _after _Jack had completed his training. He was getting to be a passable fighter now, decent, even…but what of when he graduated into a deadly one?

A thrill rippled down his spine and suddenly, Chase wanted nothing more than that. Jack—hand-trained, skilled, and downright _vicious_—fighting with him. Across from him or at his side, either was an electrifying prospect and Chase only just resisted the urge to push the goth harder than he'd be comfortable with in order to make it happen _faster._

He wouldn't, of course. This was not the sort of thing that could be rushed, no matter how much Chase suddenly wanted it.

One thing he _could _do, however, now that Omi had gone, was to return to Spicer. Waving his hand, Chase dismissed the magical eyeball back into the floor and went to do just that.

He wasn't sure if he was going back to spar with Jack or fuck him and he didn't end up deciding until he actually got there.

It ended up being a bit of both.

**A/N: HI, EVERYONE, I'M STILL ALIVE! XD**

**Anyway, I'd just like to dedicate this piece to the lovely Silvarbelle because I was inspired to write it because of her birthday. Clearly, I need to stop setting myself deadlines like that because they straight-up don't happen, but whatever. **

**As for the story itself, I have two overarching notes about it.**

**First of all, I noticed something I have a tendency to do when writing a Chack story and that's to center a fic around Jack. I don't necessarily put it in his direct point of view (though I have before), but the action and the focus is generally on him, probably because he's my favorite character. After this occurred to me, I started wondering what it would be like to write something from a general Chase-perspective just to switch things up, so this whole thing is basically an experiment in focus for me. Hope it turned out alright! **

**Second of all, when I was coming up for the original idea for this and doing the outline, it was _supposed_ to be one big Shovel Talk fic: as in, 'I have a shovel, a shotgun, and five acres to bury you in if you break his heart.' However, I say it was 'supposed' to be that because once I started writing it, none of the other characters actually had the balls to threaten Chase. They point things out, give subtle advice, and make suggestions, but not a single. Damn. One of them. Had the nerve to actually threaten him, which I just find really hilarious. XD**

**So, to make a long story short, this is me taking a shot at Chase-centric Chack and having it end up nowhere near where I thought it was going.**

**This was not really written to be split up into chunks, but length-requirements kind of force my hand in this case. That means that this is PART ONE.**

**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Falling**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

Over the course of about three months, training and sex would come to have quite a _bit _of overlap for Chase and his apprentice, but in a way, it was unavoidable. Spicer was learning incredibly quickly and that just happened to feed right into their sexual chemistry.

Skill and the kind of challenge Jack was coming to represent were both very strong turn-ons for Chase. Normally, he would be more than capable of controlling himself, but the sort of progress his student was making could not be allowed to pass without praise—and little else got Jack in the mood quite so fast as praise from _Chase Young._

Throw in the confidence that had come alongside learning how to fight and defend himself, and Chase had a sexually assertive Jack on his hands that was nigh impossible to keep his hands _off._

Not that he was under any obligation to do so. Jack was his consort as well as his apprentice, and if the duties of both were being combined, that was just more efficient, wasn't it?

That aside, or possibly because of that, it didn't take long for Chase to fall into a satisfactory routine with Spicer—and a new routine _was _necessary now that they were cohabitating.

It had taken predictably little coaxing to get Jack to move in. He had seen the logic in staying close to his master and agreed that it would be more convenient to live in the palace than to make the trip back and forth every day.

(Parental permission had not factored into the decision at all. Jack had been all but emancipated when they'd met, and he was now past the age of majority.)

He had made only two requests prior to becoming a resident of the Land of Nowhere: to bring along a small entourage of his robots and to be given some kind of workspace to tinker in.

A day and a liberal application of magic later, Chase had transferred his entire existing laboratory, complete with roughly two dozen Jackbots, to an unused room in the palace and there had been no further fuss from Spicer.

The lack of fuss was probably worthy of commendation, though, for the transition was much easier for Chase than it was for Jack.

Jack had to adjust to a whole new way of life, one where he was expected to be awake long before noon and was not allowed to subsist wholly on junk food. He adapted for the most part, but Chase would still catch him wide awake at three in the morning or have to drag him out of his lab when he got too caught up in something.

Chase allowed these occasional lapses to slide by without any worse consequence than a verbal admonishment, mostly because of the significant level of adjustment Jack was making in other areas of his life.

At his master's suggestion to incorporate the Monkey Staff into his fighting style, Jack began carrying it around everywhere, even crafting a durable strap to hold the Wu on his back when not in use. It quickly became like an extension of his arm, no longer needing to be activated to be dangerous in Jack's hands.

Sensibility also played a role in Jack's adaptations. Working on the many flips and spins that the variants of monkey style demanded had apparently made it clear to him that a long coat could only get in the way and tangle his limbs. Without a word on the subject, he had switched to a leather jacket of normal length. His eyeliner went the same way during stamina training, when he realized it was impractical if he was just going to sweat it off later.

Of course, Chase was pleased _immensely _by this and not only because Spicer looked much more attractive after the changes. The trench coat and the makeup had been part of his wardrobe for a long time; were practically constants, and yet they'd been tossed away without any fanfare because of impracticality.

Jack had already been an adult for several years now, but _this _was a sign of developing maturity.

In contrast to radical changes like this that were occurring in Spicer's world, however, Chase's life was just about the same as it had been before. He still trained in the mornings and evenings, still lurked about his massive library, still wandered and meditated in his gardens. His biggest adjustment was having another person along for the ride and Jack was rarely poor company these days.

Chase found he rather enjoyed having his young apprentice to discuss and debate with, anyway, and sometimes entertained himself by watching the goth in his element; asking questions here and there about his work with technology.

It was a comparatively minor life change and if anyone had undergone enough of those to know, it was Chase.

Then again, a situation that involved Jack Spicer was never so straightforward as that. Chase wasn't _truly _aware of the impact of his apprentice's moving in until Jack took a hit from the Fist of Tebigong and Chase transformed on the spot.

Put frankly, neither should have happened.

Jack was capable of handling himself in a fight and should have been able to avoid such a heavy hit. The one who'd dealt it, a literal unknown who'd called himself Overdrive (eyerolls all around at that introduction) should not have even been there, much less in possession of a Shen Gong Wu the monks were meant to have. He most certainly shouldn't have been able to move as _fast _as he did, catching both Jack and his master off guard.

As for Chase, he was _supposed _to have more control than that. His dragon form was something he had always kept under strict lock and key, used only as a last resort. It had always taken a lot to pull it out of him without his conscious decision and yet, the change happened purely on instinct at the sight of his apprentice being struck, non-lethally, even!

Thankfully, things resumed happening as they should shortly after Chase transformed. The irritating punk had not done any research before throwing himself into the Conflict and it showed. He knew precious little about Spicer and had suffered a lot of damage before landing the one hit—and he clearly knew even less about Chase Young when he was actually shocked and horrified to be abruptly facing down a solid ton of scales and muscles and _teeth._

Chase had only needed to roar at Overdrive once, flavoring the sound with primal rage and showing off his murderously sharp fangs before the kid had all but wet himself and made use of his strange speed in running for his life.

Chase nearly went after him, but was stopped by a sudden groan and a litany of curses from the complete opposite direction.

His dragon form was such a strange lens for the world already, made up of heightened senses and feeling over rational thought, so if he didn't particularly analyze that Jack had just taken priority over a vengeful hunt, it could probably be forgiven.

He turned, prowling closer to where Jack was sitting up and clutching his stomach.

"Motherfucker," the goth wheezed, glancing around and seeing that he and Chase were the only ones around. "That little prick take off?"

"Yes," Chase rumbled, nudging aside the white hand and pressing his snout to Jack's belly.

"Bastard," Jack muttered, and Chase easily picked up on his anger and vague humiliation. If he hadn't been an apex predator, he might've taken it as a warning to stay away. "If he ever shows up again, I am gonna get him _back _for this."

Chase did not respond, snuffling carefully at his consort's middle.

Jack frowned. His body language now spoke only of irritation, suggesting that Chase's actions were permissible, but unnecessary.

"I'm fine, y'know," he said out loud, matter-of-fact. "Didn't even crack a rib, but we _may _want to look into tossing the Fist of Tebigong into a volcano somewhere." He glared at it from where Overdrive had dropped it in his haste to leave. "I'm about…ninety-four percent sure the goddamn thing is sentient and has a vendetta against me."

If he were in his human form, Chase might've shrugged. "It's possible," he allowed. "It would hardly be the first Shen Gong Wu to become self-aware."

The dragon backed off a bit once his nose had verified what Jack had said about being fine. The smell of blood on him was strong, but it remained firmly beneath the skin and no deeper. He'd have a gorgeous bruise in twenty minutes or so, but nothing worse.

Something else was prickling at the edges of Chase's awareness, though, a _lack _of something that he couldn't quite put a claw on.

Jack was the one to lampshade it for him when he unhesitatingly settled a hand on Chase's back—palms flat, nails blunt and too soft to get past his scales, _not _an attack—to pull himself up to his feet.

"While I'm theorizing," he declared, utterly casual, "I'm gonna say that bitch had superpowers. Remind me to make a call later: I think Dakota might have lost something and I would love nothing more than to kick its ass all the way back there."

Chase paid little attention to the words, unimportant as they were because that was _it._ Jack was _casual,_and not merely acting it, either!

Here his master was, with scales instead of skin and claws that could carve a man like a roast pig…and Spicer didn't seem to have realized that anything was different from the masculine and beautiful human shape he usually wore.

Scenting literally _no_ fear and finding _no _disgust in the way he was being touched, Chase wondered if he may have missed the fact that his remarkable apprentice might actually be deeply stupid.

Chase really hoped that wasn't the case because Jack had made him grateful to have someone to converse with on the same level, and if Jack were _stupid_… Well.

The warmth of Jack's hand left his back and Chase followed him with his eyes as he went to collect their new Wu. He felt a flicker of amusement as the Fist of Tebigong was retrieved warily and tucked gingerly beneath one arm like it might suddenly bite. By contrast, his apprentice was practically cavalier in picking up the newly active Hot Rod, tossing it up, catching it, and then twirling it around his fingers in a show of dexterity.

Not a particularly useful trinket, only able to bring water to a boil, but it had been awhile since Jack had last left the palace and Chase figured he would appreciate the opportunity for a dick joke or three.

Jack had made about six before they'd even arrived on the scene.

"So," he wondered, making a lewd motion with the hand holding the Hot Rod that let Chase know he was going for the seventh, "are we gonna rub one on outta here, or are we just enjoying the scenery at this point?"

Chase flashed him a predatory grin without thinking and was then a bit perturbed when even the look he used to scare his enemies witless didn't get so much as a tiny spike of fear out of the youth.

Rising to a bipedal stance, Chase almost got to ask Jack directly what in the hells was wrong with him.

But then, there was a subtle shift in the air pressure and everything in Chase went hypervigilant. Listening closely, he was able to hear voices faintly along with the slight rustle typical of clothing, not close but getting there, and _fast._It wasn't until the direction of the wind changed a second later that Chase knew what was coming.

Jack squeaked and took a step backwards as Chase _lunged _toward him, but still stubbornly refused to be afraid. Chase only acknowledged it peripherally and herded Jack behind him, standing firmly between him and the Xiaolin monks that were just touching down on their pet-dragon.

Spicer had taken damage enough for one day as far as Chase was concerned—his bared teeth, raised claws, and thrashing tail were a visual testament to the fact that he would _not _willingly suffer him any more of it.

With the arrival of the monks came the scent of fear, _finally,_ as soon as they noticed Chase's form. It was the reaction that made sense, being that it was a monstrous shape _meant _to inspire terror, so it didn't particular bother him.

Chase had to give all of them credit, though: they covered their fear well, refused to let it cripple them. Omi shifted into an unconscious defensive stance, while beside him, the cowboy straightened and stayed on alert, both of them completely silent. Kimiko, on the other hand funneled her apprehension into a loud scoff at Dojo for making them get here so late, which was met with a duck of the head and a pathetic whine about a late-late poker night.

Naturally, as their leader, Pedrosa had to put on the bravest face and gave the two villains his cockiest grin. "See you've got the gecko-suit on, Chase," he observed. "Something scare ya'?"

An insult. How original. Chase didn't want to dignify it, so Jack was the first to respond.

"It was me who got scared, actually," he said, sounding apologetic. "But y'know, your mom was just here and well, I may have screamed a little. You can hardly blame me for that."

Chase almost questioned whether his consort was twelve, but then Raimundo actually looked offended, snapping, "You leave my _ mamãe _out of this!"

Behind his master, Jack shrugged. "You knock off the playground taunts, and I'll stop harping on your fat, ugly mama."

Pedrosa sneered. "Did you forget 'slutty'?" he wondered sarcastically.

"Nope," said Jack, "_you're _the slutty one! Obviously."

Rai sputtered and Omi spoke up. "We are here for the—"

"This thing?" Jack interrupted, once again twirling the Hot Rod about his fingers. He turned to Chase with a smile. "Never thought I'd see penis envy from a mostly male group, but I guess the kind of heat guys like us are packing _is _a little enviable."

Chase found himself reacting with another terrifying shark smile, this one producing the results it was supposed to (if only among the monks) and assuring the dragonlord that at least he hadn't lost his touch.

"As you can see," he began, his voice a threatening growl to match his grin, "my apprentice and I have already acquired the Hot Rod. Of course, you're welcome to challenge me for it, if you'd still like it for your incredibly penetrable vault."

This was a challenge Chase was actually sure none of them would go for. He could see it in all of their eyes, their stances, their faces. The fact of the matter was, Chase Young was already a scary enough opponent. Going up against him when he was more beast than man was something they would much prefer to save for the 'fate of the world' deals and a stick that could make water boil faster just wouldn't be worth it.

Of course, they might still make the attempt if they considered the disaster of what might happen if the Hot Rod was turned on a larger body of water, like the oceans, but Jack handily averted that possibility for him with a derisive laugh.

"Yeah," he chuckled, waggling the Wu, "we might use it to…cook soup! Oh, the humanity!"

"Now, now, Spicer," he purred, giving his consort's calf a light stroke of his tail. "We might make tea, as well."

Jack laughed, gratingly and not fully natural. It seemed he, too, was trying to make the monks feel mocked, so as to better drive them off.

Such a helpful apprentice he had, and the dragonlord felt a deep, instinctual pulse of satisfaction at the thought.

Predictably, the monks all looked hesitant about engaging the two villains. They turned to their leader with questioning looks.

"Do we really need this thing, Rai?" Kimiko asked, sounding very doubtful.

"It _is _a minor Wu…" Omi added reluctantly.

"Don't seem like it's worth all th' difficulty," Clay agreed.

"If you do fight him, we'll be here awhile," Dojo chimed in. "If we leave now, I'll still have time for a dragon-nap!"

Chase watched Pedrosa closely, picking up cues here and there from the way he held himself. It was _so _much easier to predict the behavior of others while in his dragon-form, because Chase could already tell that he was going to back down and just had to figure out how to do it while saving as much face as possible.

If this body weren't so ungainly at delicate tasks and didn't practically destroy his impulse control, he might prowl around in it more often. As it was, he preferred the much prettier humanoid form, even if he had to actually work at reading people.

"I guess we don't really need the Hot Rod," Rai said at length, crossing his arms over his chest. "Who knows? Maybe if we just let evil make their tea, they'll mellow out a little more."

Jack came forward a bit, still mostly behind Chase as he slung an arm over his shoulder—loose-limbed, near slightly softer scales, but still not a threat—and grinned. "Tea _has _been known to mellow us efficiently," he agreed. "I'll eat at least five fewer puppies on days when I've had a nice hot cup of Tiěguānyīn."

Chase fought much harder than he might've normally to keep from mentioning that Spicer actually was a lot less high strung after tea.

Pedrosa rolled his eyes and hopped back onto Dojo. "C'mon, guys," he nodded to the others. "Let's get back to the temple already."

With a few nods and murmurs of agreement, the rest of the monks joined him, Dojo allowing them up with a pump of his fist and a hissed, "Yes!"

They would've left then and there, but to even Chase's surprise, one of them chose to linger.

Even more surprising was the fact that it was the cowboy who lagged behind his companions, the one among them whose pack mentality was probably strongest.

Chase eyed him suspiciously when Bailey's blue eyes gave him and his consort a long, inscrutable look that seemed to last minutes. It was irritating, because Clay had abruptly changed his entire bearing to reflect absolutely none of his inner thoughts and Chase couldn't get a decent read on him. He just continued to give them both that hard, blank stare.

After what was actually only a second or two, he met Chase's reptilian eyes directly and spoke. "Must be nice," he drawled, something pointed and meaningful in his tone, "havin' someone who don't mind your scales, Young."

Unexpected, was Chase's first thought and apparently Jack's, too. In his peripheral vision, the dragon saw him actually tilting his head, puzzled.

Whatever strange seriousness had possessed the big blond drifted away as quick as it'd come, for the next thing he said was a quiet and teasing, "And don' think I didn't notice you hidin' the Fist of Tebigong back there, Spicer."

Jack startled and ducked back behind his master, but Clay didn't seem interested in pursuing that Shen Gong Wu, either.

Without another word, he clambered up onto Dojo and left with his fellow monks.

"That…" Jack said at length, after they were well out of eyeshot, "was weird."

"Agreed," Chase responded curtly. What the hell had Bailey meant by _that_? Someone who didn't mind his…

Chase stiffened.

_Spicer._ Spicer's utterly stupid lack of fear and revulsion _all day. _Had Clay noticed that, too?

And more importantly, was _that _what it was? Jack wasn't afraid…because he 'didn't mind'?

A foolish notion, and completely ridiculous besides. Anyone with an ounce of self-preservation ought to know to fear Chase's terrible, dangerous lizard body: he was already a killer in his human skin and his scaled one only gave him the tools to do it _easier._It made far more sense to believe Jack knew that and simply lacked self-preservation than to think he knew and didn't care.

And yet.

The cowboy had planted the seed of doubt skillfully, made Chase ponder the what-if.

Chase turned to face Spicer, pulling himself up to his full height and experimentally curling his claws around his shoulder. He noticeably towered over the goth in this dragon-like shape and the flesh and bone beneath his paw felt conspicuously like tissue paper and glass.

If there was any time to be afraid, it was probably now, having a monster looming over you and being literally _in his grasp._

All Jack did was smile and ask, "Home?"

Chase's tail curved back around to brush Jack's leg again and he answered with a "Yes," because he genuinely could not think of anything else to say.

He resumed his normal form and brought his apprentice back home in the same flicker of magic, but did not allow himself to forget that this day was something that bore further scrutiny.

Chase watched Spicer closely in the following weeks, testing him when it wouldn't be obvious he was doing so.

He began his tests with partial transformations during training, telling Jack that he needed to learn how to navigate physically atypical opponents. Claws, snouts, scales, and tails were all on the list of non-human anatomy he might someday expect to come up against in their strange circle of monsters and magic, and what kind of master would Chase be if he left Jack unprepared?

The weird combinations of forms didn't get him so much as a blink of Spicer's bright red eyes, not even the grotesque permutation of a reptilian head and a man's body. That one had gotten Jack to _comment, _at least, but it had only been a flippant, 'so, today's the day I train for minotaurs and minotaur-like entities?'

The trials were far from useless, though, even without producing the negative reaction they were supposed to. They allowed Chase to analyze the nuances of Jack's responses each time, leading him to a clearer final picture.

Consistently, Chase was unable to produce fear by his appearance. It seemed that no matter what his overlord happened to look like, Jack would be subject to the same behaviors and emotions as any other time. As strange as it seemed, the data was shaping up to indicate that Bailey may have had a valid point and 'his scales' really _didn't _make a difference as far as Jack cared.

That had been a difficult notion to swallow, but if anything proved it, it was what Chase had noticed spending so much time around Spicer with enhanced senses.

He'd long known that his consort reacted to his presence with pheromones. It was flattering to always have some degree of Jack's carnal attention, whether or not he was trying for it, and why not? He was a supernaturally beautiful man, after all.

What Chase _hadn't _known—and couldn't have expected—was that the pheromones didn't necessarily stop when his beauty did. Jack's body continued to express its interest in him all through trials of wicked claws, hunter green scales, a thick and heavy tail, and against all odds, Chase's fully reptilian body.

Thankfully, even Spicer had his limits and his sexual attraction faded away when faced with some of the ugliest of the hodgepodge transformations. It shocked Chase nonetheless, how _far _he had to go with it to lose his consort's lust.

There was very little in the world that could provoke passion in the absence of beauty.

The most prevalent culprit was greed or some other form of self-interest, but Chase knew that couldn't be the case in this instance. There was nothing Jack stood to gain for faking attraction, and for that matter, the attraction was genuine.

Naturally, this left only one other conclusion and in retrospect, it ought to have been expected.

Spicer had been fixated on him for years prior to this, and had finally managed to strike up a functional rapport with his former idol, current master, and favored sex-partner. Was it really such a surprise for him to have developed an obvious, bordering on romantic attachment?

In any other situation, Chase knew this revelation would be a deal-breaker. Being a powerful, attractive man for upwards of a thousand years had given him plenty of experience with people who fancied themselves in love with him. The results were _never _pleasant and Chase was typically left with a headache, a mess to clean up, or more frequently, both.

For that reason, he'd made a point of ending these sorts of things before they could really begin just to save himself the trouble. It was what he would do again if he actually _foresaw _any trouble.

With Spicer…he simply didn't.

The biggest issue Chase ever had with infatuated lovers was their tendency to get pushy. Having regular sex with someone for a length of time made people go a bit strange in the head; made them believe they had some kind of power over their partner just because they knew how to get him off.

Chase was no stranger to the way a perfectly attractive man or woman could suddenly decide that he _owed _them something and needed to provide it immediately, whether it be emotional or sexual or material in nature.

Jack wasn't like that, namely in that he knew better. The goth had been a _bit _like that when he was younger, a tween with an ego too big for him to back up and a naïve belief that he could have the world on a silver platter without working for it. He'd come a long way in the years that followed, though, especially in the time he'd spent as Chase's student: he knew to take things at face-value and to expect only what was realistic.

As far as his master went, it was clear that Jack's only expectations were frequent sex and to be tutored in the ways of the Heylin.

Of course, that wasn't to say he might not _want _more. Jack did, and sometimes, now that he was looking for it, Chase could tell. It was subtle enough, but no less real—in the way Jack instantly perked up when kissed, the tone he gave Chase's name during sex, how he let himself be helped up after sparring—the desire for something beyond what was there.

Chase didn't see it as much of an issue, because desire was all it was: Jack completely refused to act on it.

It went unsaid, but Spicer apparently understood that little annoyed Chase as much as those who presumed or expected Chase to bend for them. Considering that this infatuation was probably neither a new or even recent development, Jack had been given plenty of opportunity to try his hand at manipulating Chase, making stupid power plays and giving ill-advised ultimatums in order to get the 'more' he wanted.

That he hadn't even tried and had, without a word of complaint, remained firmly within the boundaries Chase had set for their relationship proved to him that his consort was mature enough to handle whatever romantic feelings he might have _without _compromising anything else.

It actually made Chase a little proud, that he'd managed to snag himself a level-headed consort who actually respected his authority as an overlord. Certainly, it was a rare first in Chase's long life, but one he was grateful for.

If he cared to admit it, Jack wasn't the only one who had gotten attached.

Naturally, the attachment Chase felt was nothing so frivolous as a romantic one, but he couldn't deny that he liked Spicer, quite a bit. More than his skill in bed, the goth was as much a genius as he'd always claimed to be and that translated into both intelligence and wit. His technical skill when he prattled on about the projects in his lab intrigued Chase, and his knowledge and commentary on a myriad of different subjects was both charming and entertaining.

In short, it was just a pleasure to have Jack around, which Chase put down to the fact that Jack was around so _much._ It made sense for Chase to have become used to him, grown to _like _him when he was always underfoot as a residence of the palace.

What's more, Jack was both Chase's apprentice and consort, so of course he ought to be likable. He would never have been in the running for the titles if Chase couldn't stand him!

So, yes, Chase liked Jack and certainly well enough to overlook that Jack was probably in love with Chase.

As such, he wasn't all that thrilled when his plans to quietly congratulate the youth on his record-breaking full year of service were destroyed by the activation of an important Shen Gong Wu and the disastrous scramble for it that followed.

"Sometimes," Chase said aloud, "I wonder if the cosmic powers that be don't take particular offense to my eternal youth."

From his lap, Jack looked up at him. "What makes you think that?"

"This is not exactly how I was hoping to spend the day."

Jack closed his eyes and smirked. "Yeah, I hear you" he said wryly, "I didn't exactly wake up this morning gunning for a concussion."

"The cave-in _was _unfortunate," Chase agreed. "That wasn't entirely what I was referring to."

"Really? Feels like a tragedy to me." Jack gave an exaggeratedly wistful sigh. "If my headspace wasn't all weird and achy, I could be sucking you off _right now._"

Chase grinned. "A lovely thought, though I think our current company might disapprove."

Jack snorted and his eyes opened again briefly to peek at the bickering couple across from them. "Why do you think I want to do it so much? Vengeance-head."

Chase did not laugh, but he did agree with the sentiment.

The ancient mountain that had contained the Tian Booster, a Wu that could amplify a mortal's natural power to rival a god's, had of course been blessed by a god to ensure the Wu's protection. The god just so happened to defend against evil, which meant Chase was utterly prevented from making use of his Heylin magicks so long as he was within the mountain's extensive internal caverns.

Of course, it also meant that when an argument between Pedrosa and Tohomiko, who were also searching for the Booster, got particularly loud and triggered a cave-in, Chase was unable to teleport out with his injured apprentice.

To say there was a bit of animosity towards the two of them (who were _still _fighting!) was an understatement.

"If _you _hadn't thrown that fireball," Raimundo accused, "that wall wouldn't have been weakened!"

"If _you'd _been there to back me up," Kimiko retorted, "I wouldn't have had to!"

"Well, if you hadn't screamed at me, it wouldn't have fallen!"

Kim gasped. "Are you saying it's _my_ fault we're stuck here with _these _jerks?!"

Jack pressed a hand to his chest. "Oh, god, the pain," he said, tone utterly flat. "My heart can't take that kind of cruelty."

If either of the monks heard him, he was ignored.

"You seem to think it's _my _fault," Rai pointed out.

"Because it _is_!"

Kim's voice had gone shrill again and Chase felt Jack wince in his lap.

"You are _both _at fault," he declared, voice sonorous enough to carry, but pitched low enough not to aggravate his consort's headache. Both monks turned to face him, looking incredulous. "The rockslide was a result of your argument. One cannot argue alone, therefore if blame is to be cast for this particular state of affairs, the two of you share it equally."

"Don't forget the part where they damaged an international treasure," Jack muttered, rubbing at his temple. "That's on them, too."

Kimiko noticed his pained expression and frowned. "What happened to you?" she asked.

Chase absently batted Jack's hand away, replacing it with one of his own. "Spicer was concussed when the wall came down," he explained, massaging in slow circles that almost made Jack purr. "You might have seen the damage or heard the diagnosis if you hadn't been so busy squabbling with your lover."

Both Rai and Kim jolted, staring at him with wide eyes.

"How'd you…?"

Pedrosa's question trailed off when Chase merely raised an eyebrow at them. Apparently, an extra moment of thought was enough to remind them that their enemy was superhuman and had better senses than most. Kimiko in particular reddened quickly when she realized Chase could smell what she had done with her leader this morning.

Rai looked off to the side and after a moment, huffed out, "What do you care if we're fighting?"

"I don't," Chase said frankly. "I'm hardly interested in couples' counseling—it's just irritating to listen to you."

Abruptly, Jack began giggling and Chase's attention quickly went to him. He had been lucid a minute ago, but with a concussion, it was important to stay on top of his mental state.

"Spicer?" he prompted.

Jack shook his head (thankfully careful about it). "I'm still okay," he assured. "I just…I thought of you as a yenta for a minute there and it was _weird._"

There was a snicker across from them and Chase's eyes flicked upwards, giving the Xiaolin cause to rethink any further laughter.

"Perhaps," he suggested to Jack, "it would be best for you to get some sleep."

"Whoa," Rai cut in, sounding concerned, "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to sleep with a concussion?"

Chase pulled Jack a little further onto his lap, making sure they could both be comfortable for an extended period of time. There was no way to tell exactly how long they could be stuck here, after all.

To Rai, he said, "That's something of a myth. Rest is actually the best way to treat a mild concussion like this."

"How can you tell it's a mild one?" Tohomiko wondered.

"He's coherent," Chase replied. "If it were serious, he wouldn't have been able to string together sentences half as sound as he's been doing."

Jack folded his hands over his stomach and shut his eyes again. "Yeah," he agreed, "if I were really fucked up, I might be talking like Omi."

"And he certainly wouldn't be able to snark at this level if he were all that injured." Chase offered the monks a taunting smile. "More importantly, 'what do you care' if one of your enemies is hurt?"

The two of them clammed up fast and Chase was content to sit in the silence while his consort drifted off.

Of course it didn't last, but twenty minutes was decent and more than enough time for Jack to be sound asleep by the time Pedrosa spoke up again.

"You can't do anything to get us out of here, can you?"

Chase couldn't help his chuckle. "You put much too much faith in my altruism, I think. If I could leave this place, the two of you would have been abandoned here long ago."

"Can't you, like…teleport or whatever?" he tried.

"Not here." The monks blinked back at him. "Did Fung tell you this mountain's history?"

Kimiko eventually came up with, "…he mentioned a god?"

"Erlang," Chase filled in for her. "He blessed the entire mountain. Being that he is a god who abhors evil, my kind of magic is blocked."

Rai looked over to the pile of boulders that had sealed off this branch of the caverns. "Your body's not magic, is it?"

Mischief flickered in Chase's expression. "Spicer might disagree with you on that."

Pedrosa pulled a face that made the rejoinder absolutely worth it and the monk snapped, "Can't you just bust up the rocks?"

"I could," Chase allowed, "but I imagine I'd be the only survivor. The whole network is likely unstable now that part of it has collapsed. If I were to try and punch my way out, half of the mountain might crumble off with it."

"Seriously?!"

"'Engineer' wasn't actually a profession when this was built to hide the Tian Booster," he said. "If there had been blueprints, they probably would have said only, 'drill holes in the mountain and hope it doesn't collapse and kill us all.'"

"Not a great plan," Kim commented.

"No," Chase agreed. "A better one might be to wait for your cavalry to arrive."

"You mean Clay?"

"Yes. If his control over his element is where it should be at this point, Bailey should have little trouble excavating us—and without the unpleasant side-effect of possibly ending up crushed under a collapsing mountain."

"Clay's good," the Shoku leader agreed. "We wait for him and Omi to find us, then?"

Chase did not answer, having deemed the conversation finished.

If Rai felt overly snubbed, he didn't show it and turned to Kimiko. "Hey, how's your phone battery?"

Kim checked. "Ninety-two percent. I'm not getting any service out here, though."

"Whatever, so we just don't get to post our Goo Zombies score online."

The girl smiled when she realized what Rai was suggesting and pulled the app up on her phone, setting the game for two-player mode. A quick look over at Jack and Chase, one of them asleep and the other apparently meditating, had her turning her phone on vibrate as a (potentially life-saving) courtesy.

Kim scooched over to better share the screen with Rai and without further ado, they began playing.

Time passed with little fanfare for awhile, the quiet of the cave interrupted only by the sounds of breathing and the occasional exchange of, 'Get the power-pack,' 'I'm trying, but the spikes are—' 'Shit, here comes the boss, swap ammo!'

After just over an hour had passed, Chase left his meditative state and calmly woke his apprentice with a firm nudge of the shoulder.

As always, Jack greeted his return to consciousness with a striking lack of enthusiasm, literally hissing and squinting up at his master. "Chase…Whass'it?"

"Do you know why I'm waking you?" Chase asked him.

Jack frowned and took a moment to process the question. "Um…concussed. You're making sure my brain is still okay."

Pleased, the dragonlord nodded. "What is your grandmother's maiden name?"

"Taylor," Jack answered without difficulty.

"Where did you go when you turned eighteen?"

"France."

Seeking more in-depth answers, Chase pressed, "Who with, and what did you do there?"

"Pfft," said Jack. "I went alone, obviously. Met up with Le Mime at one point, though, and he was nice enough to fund my first legal experience of getting wasted."

Chase was satisfied to discover no slurring in Jack's speech and went on for a test of memory. "When was the first time you got drunk?"

"Oh, shit. Eleven?" he guessed. "It was awhile ago, but I think…Yeah. Yeah, definitely eleven. It was the year before I met Wuya and I was…so, yeah."

It matched with the story Jack had told Chase while _not _suffering a concussion. Chase moved on to concentration.

"Two-hundred and thirty-eight."

"Not prime, divisible by two," Jack shot back immediately. "Also, if we're gonna do this, could you at least bump it up another digit? I'm not _that _screwed up."

Chase grinned, a certain fondness in his expression. "If you insist. Seven-thousand five-hundred and forty-nine."

"That's prime."

"Eight-thousand and eighty-three?"

"Divisible by fifty-nine, not prime."

Chase thought a moment before suggesting the next one. "One-thousand, nine-hundred and forty-three."

"Nineteen forty-three?" Jack echoed. "Not prime, and also a very sad year from January seventh onward."

"Absolutely tragic," Chase slyly agreed.

Before he could come up with another number, Jack interrupted.

"I'm good, Chase," he said. "I think you can knock off the tests, 'cause I can clearly brain just fine. If it's cool with you, though, I could totally do with some more sleep."

Chase gave a regal incline of his head, granting permission. "As you wish."

"Great," Jack yawned, sitting up for a brief stretch. Chase steadied the youth when he swayed a little and then allowed him to resettle in his lap.

This time, Jack curled up on his side with his arms folded over Chase's legs, his face ending up in the crook of his elbow. As soon as he fully settled, Chase splayed one firm hand atop his back, a touch for the sake of touching.

"Wake me up for the jailbreak," Jack asked of his master, "or the next time you get paranoid about my genius going all wonky. Whichever comes first."

And even as the wonderfully blithe request caused a smile to tug at his lips, Chase felt a flash of it again: the _desire._

It was never overt when Chase noticed it and this time was no different than any other. He could simply tell what Jack was feeling, something to the effect of, 'this is great, but _more _would be better.'

Any other day, any other time, it wouldn't have fazed him; _hadn't _fazed him since the moment he'd decided it didn't matter that Jack was in love with him.

Perhaps it had something to do with being trapped with a couple that haphazardly bounced from violently loud arguments to easy camaraderie, but Spicer was so _stable _in comparison. A full year in Chase's service and in that time, he'd reliably provided sex, loyalty, and companionship—consistent in a way that was nothing like the strange hot-and-cold Pedrosa and Tohomiko were trying to make something out of.

Suddenly, it seemed unfair that Jack wasn't being rewarded for this.

For all of his service and utter functionality, Jack didn't ask for much and for that matter, didn't even ask for _anything._He just quietly, unobtrusively wanted something more, refusing to let it interfere with his overlord's life.

Now, though, it made Chase wonder… _Why not?_

The 'more' Jack desired was certainly no skin off Chase's nose, or at least, it didn't have to be. Chase had no fear of intimacy, only a dislike of those who tried to force it from him and Jack had already proven himself willing to go with the flow and take what he was given. He would not react to any such attentions with something so obnoxious as _entitlement._

Furthermore, Spicer was currently _injured. _If there was any time he deserved to be rewarded, this one was as good as any.

It was with this in mind that Chase moved his hand from black leather to thick, red hair and stroked, slow and definitely fond.

Jack stiffened with evident surprise. "Chase?"

"Quiet, Spicer," he admonished, albeit gently. "I can't wake you later if you don't sleep."

The goth relaxed a little, but not completely and it occurred to Chase that Jack might not even realize what he was doing. Chase decided to make it a tad more obvious.

Though an unreservedly _saccharine _gesture of affection, the soft kiss on the cheek Jack received was apparently enough to get the message across.

Jack _melted _back into Chase's lap, practically radiating shock and glee and the love he was absolutely terrible at hiding. As Chase had thought, there was nothing in his reaction that spoke of privilege, only gratitude which was more than acceptable.

Chase resumed the petting of his consort's hair, to which said consort smiled, snuggled closer, and after a little while, fell asleep again.

If Chase had not long since dismissed the presence of the two monks also trapped in the cave as insignificant, he might have noticed that they had paused their game right around the time he'd woken Jack. He might also have seen that they watched their free-flowing exchange with an abashed silence, giving one another meaningful looks and joining hands by the time Jack had been kissed.

Having seen them, however, would not have changed Chase's actions in the slightest. He had no reason to alter his behavior just for a couple of Xiaolin twerps whose opinions were worthless to him.

Speaking of Xiaolin twerps, the rescue party did eventually show up, the scratched and scraped pair of Clay and Omi who had been the only ones to make it to the mountain's inner sanctum and do battle with the Tian Booster's guardian, a shape-shifter with six dozen forms.

The whole story was regaled on the long walk out of the blessed (accursed) mountain, which was also how it came out that the Wu's guardian had been too strong to defeat. In the stalemate that resulted, Omi explained that they were only after the artifact on their master's orders to destroy it, a cause that the shape-shifter ultimately found acceptable.

To make a long story short, the creature gave the Tian Booster over to Omi, binding him to his word so that the only way it could leave his hands was to be tossed into a volcano.

Chase was a bit disappointed in the failure to retrieve it himself, but he knew things had probably turned out for the best. His pride was too great for him to have ever used the Tian Booster as a crutch for himself and he'd only wanted it to keep it out of the hands of his enemies.

Its destruction would be the next best thing to having to safeguard it.

Finally, though, there came the light at the end of the tunnel…literally, and Chase could feel his magic leaking back to him the closer he came to the outside. In just another minute or so, he would regain the ability to teleport, signifying the end of what was rather a clusterfuck of a day.

So, naturally, his exit was delayed when Pedrosa and Tohomiko decided to pull him aside.

They both wore serious expressions, earnest in a way that made Chase want to sneer at them openly.

"Chase…" Kimiko said slowly, hesitantly. "Don't hurt him."

Chase blinked. "What?"

"Spicer," Raimundo clarified for her. "He's already a pro at getting hurt. He doesn't exactly need any help."

It probably quickly occurred to them that this was something better said _out _of Jack's earshot when Jack responded to them directly.

"Fuck you both," he snapped, sounding indignant from his place in Chase's arms which was where he'd been carried for the entire trip out when it became apparent that he was just a bit too disoriented to walk. "Just 'cause this isn't the first time I've had a head injury doesn't give you the right to lecture!"

For a moment, Chase was inclined to agree with Jack because clearly, these monks were idiots. Jack was his consort and his apprentice: it was his _duty _to take care of him and protect him from harm! It could only be rampant stupidity that would make them believe he'd ever damage Jack himself.

But then, he looked at them—their solemn faces and concerned eyes—and he knew they didn't mean physical hurt at all.

They spoke of emotional hurt, _heartbreak._

Unbidden, the thought came to Chase of what they were warning against. For one brief moment, he pictured Spicer in his mind's eye, hoarse from screams, blind from tears, broken somewhere _important _and hurting where salves and stitches could not heal.

And it was because of _him._

Unexpectedly, the thought felt like a physical blow and it dawned on Chase that he was in real trouble.

He didn't say a word to either monk, only tightening his grip on Jack and marching off to the vanishing point of the mountain's magic-blockade. Even upon arriving within his palace between one blink and the next, Chase didn't think it was possible to have left _fast_ enough.

**A/N: SAME AS LAST CHAPTER  
**

**Anyway, I'd just like to dedicate this piece to the lovely Silvarbelle because I was inspired to write it because of her birthday. Clearly, I need to stop setting myself deadlines like that because they straight-up don't happen, but whatever. **

**As for the story itself, I have two overarching notes about it.**

**First of all, I noticed something I have a tendency to do when writing a Chack story and that's to center a fic around Jack. I don't necessarily put it in his direct point of view (though I have before), but the action and the focus is generally on him, probably because he's my favorite character. After this occurred to me, I started wondering what it would be like to write something from a general Chase-perspective just to switch things up, so this whole thing is basically an experiment in focus for me. Hope it turned out alright! **

**Second of all, when I was coming up for the original idea for this and doing the outline, it was _supposed_ to be one big Shovel Talk fic: as in, 'I have a shovel, a shotgun, and five acres to bury you in if you break his heart.' However, I say it was 'supposed' to be that because once I started writing it, none of the other characters actually had the balls to threaten Chase. They point things out, give subtle advice, and make suggestions, but not a single. Damn. One of them. Had the nerve to actually threaten him, which I just find really hilarious. XD**

**So, to make a long story short, this is me taking a shot at Chase-centric Chack and having it end up nowhere near where I thought it was going.**

**This was not really written to be split up into chunks, but length-requirements kind of force my hand in this case. That means that this is PART TWO.**

**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Falling**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

In the days that followed, Chase didn't see much of Jack. Being concussed was an ill fit to Jack's typical routine, leading much of it to be scrapped during convalescence. It was a week before he could stand to be in the presence of noise, and even longer before he could work his usual hours in the lab without getting headaches.

That alone had left him irritable and prickly at the slightest provocation which Chase had mostly dealt with by…not dealing with him at all.

It worked out well that Jack wasn't eager to be kept company for awhile because after that disastrous incident in the caves, Chase _definitely _wanted to be left alone.

At first, Chase could only be quietly furious at Pedrosa and Tohomiko for the sheer audacity of their words, presuming they had any right to speak of his personal affairs. While his resentment of them didn't fade, it didn't take long for Chase to realize that what they had said was hardly the direst issue at hand.

The real problem was _him._

Even after hours of meditation, deliberation, and desperate reflection, Chase could not work out how it had happened, but for at least one quick moment, he had been wholly willing to accept pain upon himself rather than see it inflicted on Spicer.

And really, that was unacceptable because it was _risky;_ entirely unsafe and something Chase had absolutely no experience with. Spicer's comfort _could not_ be more important than his own—aside from the fact that it was a completely irrational notion, there were implications that came with it that were even _less _acceptable.

That someone could have that kind of power over him, might _already _have it…

It was harrowing.

On the night he managed to comprehend all this in full, Chase was tense and even a bit edgy but he knew his mission could be nothing less than a head-on confrontation.

He went in search of his apprentice.

Jack was found without difficulty, in his laboratory because he was so damned predictable. He even had the gall to leave his master unacknowledged when Chase entered, though he was well within Jack's line of sight.

"Spicer," he said tightly.

Jack did not reply and Chase felt of flicker of rage at being so blatantly ignored until he noticed that the goth's gaze hadn't left his project even once. It was neither a new occurrence nor an act of sedition for Jack to get so caught up in something that he tuned out the rest of the world.

Chase relaxed the hands he'd unconsciously balled into fists before making a second attempt. "Spicer!"

This time, Jack looked up, surprised and then smiling over at Chase. "Oh, hey!" was all he said before turning back to the exposed innards of some machine. "What's up?"

The response brought back the anger, this time with a razor-edge of panic. It was too flippant a greeting for Chase's liking, too glib and bordering on insolent. _This _was the fool that might have power over him?

Chase was fairly sure that in coming down here, he'd had _something _planned to say. Now, he wasn't entirely sure what it was and he found himself stating, "You're mine," instead.

"Mmhmm," Jack agreed, which really left a lot to be desired.

Chase's hand shot out quicker than thought, catching Jack by the shoulder. Jack's surprised gasp and full attention appeased the overlord a little, but it was still through grit teeth that Chase insisted, "You are mine."

Jack looked at him with clear apprehension. "Chase…?"

He sharply sucked in a breath when Chase's grip tightened. "I need you," Chase growled, "to _say _it."

"I'm yours!" Jack said immediately. He glanced at one of his arms as if to reassure himself of the fact. "Of course I'm yours!"

Chase followed his gaze and the sight of the coal-black runes set deeply in Jack's white skin loosened a knot of tension somewhere inside him.

Yes, of course Spicer was his: he was literally bound to Chase, tied in such a way that he was physically incapable of acting against him. Even if he had some kind of influence, he wouldn't be able to _use _it.

And yet, Chase had forgotten all about the binding. Had this…thing…really gotten so far under his skin?

Chase removed his hand from Jack's shoulder and stepped back. He took a deep breath that he exhaled slowly, trying to compose himself.

"Chase…" He turned, watching Jack cautiously edge back into his personal space. He wondered if he should be offended or pleased that the goth looked concerned. "Are you…okay?"

There was no stopping the completely mirthless chuckle that fell from his lips. "Clearly not, Spicer."

Jack very obviously did not know how to respond to that and spent another minute just standing there, looking as if he was trying to get close to a wild animal without spooking it.

Chase might've laughed at that, too, had it not been so terribly apt.

The sudden sensation of Jack's arms looping around his neck made the dragonlord tense and relax in almost the same moment. It was not the reaction he'd expected of his consort, but a hug could hardly be considered an attack.

Chase deemed it acceptable and allowed Jack to get in close, touching a hand to his back to show the action was not necessarily unwelcome.

Jack was completely silent in all this, very out of character for him, but Chase wasn't sure he'd prefer an overly chatty Spicer right now. He tried not to think about the questions Jack would probably have later and made the attempt to enjoy the peace to be found in the present.

…which turned out to be easier said than done with Jack so close.

He had just heard it, just seen it confirmed, but it was truly hard to miss his ownership of Jack when he could _smell _it.

Spicer's scent had always been distinctive, something sharp and attention-grabbing and mixed in with hot metal and sweat. Currently, though, Chase could barely pick up on it at all because it was smothered with _his _scent.

It was yet another mark of possession he had put upon Jack, a cue to anyone or anything enhanced enough to take note of it that this mortal and all that was associated with him belonged to Chase Young.

And that was just as it should be, wasn't it? Jack ought to smell like him. He was Chase's apprentice, Chase's consort—and Chase was the only man to ever touch that body, to learn it intimately as both a lover and a master and he would _remain _the only man to ever know it so.

It was _right _for Jack's being to confirm that kind of ownership, whether with his speech or his tattoos or with his very scent.

Chase didn't notice the satisfied growl this thought had pulled from his chest until Spicer leaned back from the hug and again asked him if he was alright.

Really, Chase meant to reassure him. He would tell his apprentice that it was none of his concern and then leave because whatever the hell this was clearly required more thought…or maybe less thought, and possibly no thought at all.

But Jack was looking at him, all wide-eyed confusion and concern and of course, there was love and all of it reached some untouched place deep within Chase's psyche and _poked._

"What are you _doing _to me?" was the question he asked, very much aloud to Chase's dismay and threaded with a hint of far too genuine distress.

The expression Jack gave him wouldn't have been out of place in a cartoon, only missing the anatomically impossible jaw-dropped-literally-to-the-floor. He hadn't expected Chase to say that, which made two of them.

"I… Nothing," he sputtered. "I'm…I'm not doing anything…"

That was not something Chase wanted to hear. If Jack wasn't doing anything, it could only mean that _he_ was doing something and that _he _was changing somehow because Chase Young didn't do…whatever this was.

Chase shook his head and reached up with his free hand, curling his fingers around Jack's throat. "I should kill you right now," he said bluntly.

It was true. He absolutely should. Nothing good could come from this and it had probably already gone on too long. Killing Spicer was the most expedient solution to what had the potential to become a very big problem, never mind the fact that it would cost him a skilled consort and a promising apprentice.

But that was just it: he couldn't do it.

Destroying Jack, crushing his fragile human body with his superior strength and putting an end to his barely-lived life would be as effortless as snuffing out a candle flame. A little too effortless, maybe, because the idea alone was enough to make Chase recoil from the whole train of thought.

It was an especially disquieting thing to think of now with that possibility in easy reach. The warmth of Jack's neck felt searing to his gloved palm and the pulse escalating beneath his fingers may have matched his own.

He considered squeezing for only a second and had no words to put to the feeling that swept through him after, but ending Jack and removing his brilliance from the world felt…_wrong._

Gods. Was that how deep this went already? He couldn't even _kill _Spicer?

His hand dropped like a stone, only to be caught by Jack's.

"Spicer…" he said, having no idea what he intended to say next. He seemed to be spending a downright abnormal amount of this conversation off his footing and totally floored.

But Jack met his eyes and must have seen a hint of whatever fractured…thing…lie behind them. It made him hesitate, like he was thinking something over.

"Chase," he began when it appeared he'd decided. "I love you."

So Chase's suspicions were correct. The confirmation still didn't warrant anything more than a vaguely curious, "I know."

Jack clasped his hand a little tighter, eyebrows drawing downward into a faint frown. "Then you should know that I'm not going anywhere. Not until you tell me to leave."

That brought on another swift wave of negation and Chase flattened Jack to his chest. "No!" he snapped forcefully. "Stay. _Stay._"

Chase could feel Jack's smile just below his jaw. "Not a dog," he teased. "Although, I'd say you've got me trained pretty good anyway."

It was…amazing how much the one spot of humor defused the situation. The air in the lab suddenly felt a dozen times lighter.

Chase noticeably drooped in something like relief. On a whim, he pressed his nose to the junction of his consort's neck and shoulder and nuzzled. It was something he'd done many times before, but without a sexual context the mood felt totally different.

That mood may have been what drove him to invite, "Lie with me, Jack. Tonight."

Chase did not typically ask Spicer for sex in words, so Jack made no effort at hiding his confusion. Helpfully, though, Chase added, "Not sex."

Jack was quiet for a bit. "I… Like, in your bed?" _That _was something they'd never done—Jack had his own room in the palace and his own bed for that.

Chase did not prevaricate on an answer. "I want you there."

And it turned out that there was nothing Jack could say to that but 'okay.'

They didn't fuck that night, not even a little. The willingness was there, but the energy and the drive were a completely different story.

Hashing out…whatever they had hashed out was a surprisingly draining experience and by the time they ended up in bed together there was nothing as intense as passion left in either of them.

Mostly, they cuddled which, again, was entirely new to Chase outside of a framework of sex.

Spooning in particular was something Chase had always thought of as sickeningly sweet, but he was beginning to understand its more practical applications. It was convenient in that it allowed him to keep Jack close and the position's many contact-points were a quick way to check that he was whole and intact.

Chase wasn't entirely sure since when, but those were two things that had apparently become important to him. After his conversation with Jack, though, details like 'when' and 'why' and 'how' didn't seem as important.

And really, that was probably for the best because once Chase stopped bothering to ask those questions, it was all so much easier to deal with.

Just because he now felt…sentiment did not mean that anything fundamental had changed. Jack was still his consort and apprentice, still absolutely exceptional as both and if he took his master's minor break as a moment of weakness, he was so good at pretending it didn't affect him that even Chase couldn't call him on it.

It probably also helped that Jack's behavior didn't change and that he didn't seem to want Chase's behavior to change, either. Being that something along these lines was uncharted territory, unrealistic expectations had been a bit of a concern: for all that he seemed to have genuine affection for Spicer, he was also a ruthlessly calculating warlord.

Needless to say, Jack would be very disappointed if he suddenly expected pretty flowers and picnics in meadows, so it worked out for everyone when he wanted nothing of the sort and carried on with business as usual.

Without an overbearing, pushy partner and no longer caring about the minutiae of (what could probably be called) their relationship, Chase actually found himself taking to the whole thing easily.

In the months that followed, the routine around the palace changed little and when it did, it was gradual.

The proportion of time Chase spent in affectionate, non-sexual contact with Jack (known to some as snuggling) went up exponentially. They also kissed more and did so more intimately than in the past. Occasionally, Chase would give in to the urge to find Jack without any purpose in mind other than to be around him—and once that came to be a normal thing for them both, Chase proposed the idea of taking the goth out into the world sometimes to show him things he'd yet to experience and maybe show him off in the process.

Jack declared that he would be more than happy to date his everlord and commented that they seemed to have done this whole thing exactly backwards. Chase laughed because they had, hadn't they?

Even so, dating had worked out just as well as everything else had and Chase couldn't deny that he was looking forward to their outings whenever he impulsively scheduled them. It had been a long time since…

No. There hadn't _ever _been a time when Chase had a companion like Jack, someone he wanted to share the strange and fascinating things he had learned about the world when he'd gained eternal youth, to discover brand new things with and to have by his side to watch it all change again and again and again.

These, too, were dangerous thoughts and ones Chase tried not to dwell on. _He _might survive another 'minor break,' but he was fairly certain his dignity would not.

Best to just go with the flow of it all and not make himself crazy over what couldn't be changed.

Chase could hardly color himself surprised when said flow brought him to some sort of technology exposition being hosted somewhere in Europe, an outright fair the likes of which he'd not seen since 1933.

It also wasn't too surprising that he was here with Jack's hand in his own, especially considering all Jack had begged to come here.

Chase had the fleeting thought that it might have been a bit too indulgent to allow the visit when his own interest in the event was minimal, but he dismissed the concern quite promptly.

It was their two-year anniversary—if that didn't warrant a bit of indulgence, Chase couldn't imagine what did.

As for Jack, he was practically giddy. There was a near-literal spring in his step and he kept sending his master these positively maddening looks, beaming with joy and gratitude like he just could not comprehend his current luck.

If he kept it up much longer, Chase was liable to drag him off into the hedge maze he'd seen outside and order his consort to show his appreciation with his _mouth _instead.

Figuring Jack might want to wander around a bit more first, he decided to stall by noting, "You seem happy."

"Of course I'm happy!" Jack exclaimed. "I've only been talking about this thing for months!"

Chase smirked. "Yes," he replied dryly, "it was hard to miss that."

"And _you _brought me here," the goth continued, "so I would say that I can't think of anything that could possibly wreck this experience for me, except I think that would be tempting fate." He paused. "Might've tempted fate by saying it just now, but I said it in a meta way… I'm probably safe, right?"

"Probably," Chase agreed. "Although, now that we're here, I must admit that I don't really see the appeal. Some of the presentations we've seen…"

"Not your thing?" Jack guessed.

"Not _impressive,_" Chase corrected. "Half of it actually seems incomplete compared to the things I've seen you come out with on a day-to-day basis."

Jack rewarded him with a delighted grin. "Well," he said, making no attempt to disguise his smugness, "I've been something of a prodigy at this stuff since I got into it, so it's not really fair to compare these guys to me. I haven't met the nerd who could keep _up _with me, much less outdo me."

Still so modest. Chase would be hard pressed to say he hadn't grown a little partial to it, though, and it probably showed in his answering smile. "You're decades ahead of your competition. Why come see their attempts at creativity, then, if they're so disappointing?"

Jack made a face. "Well…I guess they're not completely useless. Going to these things always ends up helping me out somehow."

"Inspiration?"

A shrug. "Yeah, it's inspiration about half the time. I'll see something that reminds me of something else or makes some kind of connection in my head to some sci-fi shit I haven't gotten around to yet."

"And the other half of the time?" Chase wondered.

"The broken tech," Jack declared, already looking excited. "What you said about this stuff looking incomplete? Some of it is 'cause whoever made it couldn't make it do what it was supposed to or didn't have time to get out all the bugs. You'd be surprised how many of the 'top minds in the industry' will show up with something that's not all the way done because they figured it was good enough for the deadline."

"Is that why you smuggled some of your tools in, then? You wanted to play mechanic?"

"Hey," Jack laughed, "don't knock it. Some of my coolest shit comes from 'playing mechanic.' You remember those nanobots I showed you way back when?"

Chase did, though 'way back when' in this case was only referring to one point during the past year. Jack's perception of time was still so _slow. _He nodded anyway and Jack continued.

"The technology for them already existed," he said. "They just didn't work right…or at all. That's where I came in with a little tinkering and now, they function properly."

"Interesting," mused Chase. "Have you seen anything here that's enticed you to rescue it from its slipshod creators?"

Jack appeared to consider it. "Mmmm…just one thing so far," he decided at length.

"The anti-gravity propulsion system?"

"Nailed it in one," Jack confirmed, sounding a tad quizzical. "Was I that obvious about it?"

"Not really, it was just that terrible of a presentation," Chase assured him. "The entire apparatus couldn't have weighed more than two-hundred pounds, and yet it couldn't make it more than a foot off the ground."

"Oh, god, I know," moaned the goth, "it's really an embarrassment. My Jackbots weigh even more and they can make it up a couple _thousand_ feet if they have to. _And _they can do it with the added weight of a fully grown adult male hanging on!"

"To be fair, you don't add all that much extra." Jack had always been skinny and while the muscle he'd gained from physical training had tacked on a bit of weight, it was pretty clear that he simply wasn't made to go beyond a lean and wiry build.

"Not the point," said Jack. "I came up with that design when I was five and had it built by the time I was six. That guy was…what? Fifty?"

"I'd put my money on late forties."

Jack snickered and in that moment, Chase was completely satisfied. He was out with his apprentice, laughing at the inadequacies of others, enjoying some of their easy banter and the more he thought of it, the more certain he became that they were both in for some spectacular sex later. It was a perfectly pleasant moment.

Which was why he really shouldn't have been surprised to feel a distantly familiar tingle catching at his attention with an accompanying flash of gold out of the corner of his eye.

Chase resisted the urge to sigh and gently bumped Jack's shoulder with his own. When his consort turned to him expectantly, he put on an encouragingly mischievous smirk. "Why don't you go right now? Prove your absolute mastery in your field?"

Jack blinked, looking over to the station where the inventor was still proudly showing off his inferior creation. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"I suggested it, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but usually when I do something like that, I have to leave pretty much right after." He scoffed. "It's actually kind of ridiculous how many science-groupies you can amass in less than ten minutes just by proving you're a total genius."

Chase couldn't stop himself from wondering if the story behind that had anything to do with his badge. He dutifully ignored the thought and insisted, "I'm sure you're dying to show off, anyway. Go: I'm certain I'll be able to scare off any 'groupies' you collect afterwards."

Jack considered it, brightened, and then paused. "You're not coming with?"

"No need," Chase said. He gestured to a large, decorative fountain only a few feet away—and of course it was there, that was his _element,_damn it all—where he would have a perfect line of sight to watch his apprentice from a distance. "I think I'd prefer to view this particular detonation from outside the blast radius."

"Oh," said Jack. "Looking for a wider-angle perspective on the fallout?"

"Yes, something like that. Now, are you going to publicly humiliate that man and tear him to shreds in front of an audience of his peers for my amusement or not?"

This earned him two sets of laughter.

Finally, though, it seemed Jack was convinced that he had his master's permission to go off and cause a bit of solo mayhem. He gave a sloppy salute and proclaimed, "I'll make you proud, babe."

Chase rolled his eyes as Jack dashed off. "I'm sure you will."

And then, he was gone which left Chase free to deal with an infuriating leer of, "You let him call you _'babe'_?"

Chase sighed. "I don't suppose you'd consider fucking off now and going back to being dead."

Dashi smiled broadly at him. "Not a chance," he promised. "This is just too beautiful."

"Of course it is." Chase sat down at the edge of the fountain, removing the phone Jack had made for him from the pocket of his charcoal slacks and cursing his life.

Dashi took notice of the device and floated over. "So, what," he wondered, "your dearly departed brother—"

"Yes, the fact of your departure was very dear to me."

"—goes to all the trouble of transcending the boundary between the living and the dead," the grand master continued as if Chase hadn't interrupted, "_just _to talk to you, and you'd rather play Angry Birds?"

Chase shot him a particularly mean look. "First of all, you'll find nothing so inane as that on anything of mine." Jack had been courteous enough to put only a few games on the phone, all of them logic and puzzle based that actually appealed to his overlord's tastes. "Secondly, if you're going to insist on doing this in a public place, I'd rather not look completely insane 'talking to myself.'"

Dashi chuckled. "Careful, Chase, that almost sounded like you care about what other people think of you."

"Hardly," Chase scoffed. He spared a glance over to where Jack had reached the presentation booth and was already embroiled in a conversation with the inventor that was quickly escalating into an argument. "Spicer may end up drawing a fair bit of attention to the both of us, though."

"Well, that's sweet of you, wanting to protect your boyfriend's pristine reputation."

Chase flinched. "Consort," he corrected immediately. "And my apprentice."

"My mistake." Dashi didn't seem all that contrite about it and followed Chase's eyes over to Jack. "Speaking of 'pristine,' does he always look like that?"

Chase could only assume he meant Jack's skin and eyes. "Yes. He was born an albino."

The specter let out a low whistle. "Wow. Can't say I've ever seen one _that_ white before. And his eyes are actually _red _instead of pink or blue." He tilted his head after a moment. "So, I guess that hair of his is—"

"Not dyed," Chase cut in. "And yes, brother," he added with no small amount of exasperation, "the carpet _does _match the drapes. I'm sure."

Dashi laughed. "You have one hell of a knack for finding genetic anomalies if that's true," he said, "and I'd have to say you probably know me a little too well."

"To my utmost displeasure. I'd rather not know you at all."

"Spoken like a true, nasty kid-brother, Chase. Aren't we a few centuries too old for this sibling rivalry thing?" Dashi asked.

"'Kid-brother.' You are older than me by mere _hours, _Dashi, and what rivalry?" inquired Chase. "You're dead. I'd say the rivalry part has been over for quite some time."

Unbothered, Dashi reached up to fold his arms behind his head and leaned back in midair, his ghostly tail flicking carelessly. "Life is just a state of being. Like everything else, it can be—"

"Please spare me the mystical drivel. It did not impress me when we were monks-in-training and it has little chance of impressing me now." The gold of his eyes was hard and unyielding with the look he gave Dashi. "Tell me why you're here."

In counterpoint, Dashi only shrugged. "Oh, you know," he said, "I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd drop by and catch up with you…" He very conspicuously peeked over to where Jack was now taking out his tools and grinned. "Maybe I was hoping to meet my new brother-in-law!"

Chase snorted and shook his head. "Perhaps," he smirked, "you ought to have picked a better day if you wanted that. It just so happens to be our anniversary and between this and our plans for later, I don't think he'll have any interest in meeting you."

Dashi's laid-back demeanor dropped off in a second. He straightened and stared at the warlord, all but gaping. "Holy _hells,_ Chase," he muttered slowly, "that didn't even _rile _you."

Chase ruminated on whether it would be too dismissive to respond with a 'meh.' Ultimately, he decided against it, finding it a phrase better suited to Jack's mouth than his own.

Apparently, his silence said enough because Dashi made an understandingly sympathetic face at him. Naturally, it made Chase wish he wasn't an intangible apparition because then that face might be punchable.

"Oh…" Dashi said quietly. "You're in _deep _this time, aren't you, brother?"

Chase saw no point in denying it. He simply sighed and agreed, "Very."

Dashi floated down, sitting beside Chase at the edge of the fountain, but he apparently had nothing to say to that. For several minutes, the only sound between them was the quiet trickling of water.

Then, Dashi found his voice again. "So…this is real, then."

"It is," Chase confirmed. "At least, more 'real' than anything else I could compare it to."

Another stretch of silence. "Well. Can't say I was expecting that."

"That makes three of us, then."

Dashi frowned. "Three?"

Chase nodded over towards Jack, already wrist-deep in machinery. "He knows that we are more than sex, but I'm certain he has no idea just how far it goes. I doubt he's even begun to hope for that much."

"Do you plan on filling him in?"

"Yes, soon," Chase replied. "I've been trying to be subtle about it to keep from surprising him _too _much, but unfortunately, subtlety is…not Spicer's forte."

"Hmm. And is he… Are you…" Dashi laughed and put a hand to his face. "You know, I used to practice this whole speech when we were teenagers and never got to use it. It's been so long, I really never thought it'd come up again. Now I don't know _what _to say to you."

"Oh, don't worry," Chase said with a grimace, "I'm sure any speech you prepared when we were teenagers is grossly outdated by now, anyway. These days, fifteen is nowhere close to what is considered a marriageable age and it's no longer a requirement to settle down with _someone _and produce large broods of offspring."

"And you used to wonder why your big bro became a monk," Dashi teased. "It's all so…_progressive _now. Here you've been all day with another man on your arm, no rings on either of you, making gratuitous public displays of affection and all it's gotten you is a few double-takes."

"Well, really, double-takes are just to be expected with two strikingly sexy men such as ourselves."

"Narcissist."

"Not entirely," Chase protested. "I was kind enough to include Spicer in that."

The grand master snorted but quickly sobered. "Okay, so…clearly we're not gonna have a whole big _talk _about it and that's probably better, but I don't think I have it in me not to even ask." He took a deep breath. "You and Jack. You're…okay?"

Chase…stared at him, putting honest thought into the question. "Yes," he answered slowly. "I'm okay. Better, even."

Dashi watched as his brother's eyes once again found Jack, who had apparently repaired the hovering device and was haughtily demonstrating.

"He is a complement to me," Chase went on. "We have much in common. Appreciation for the finer things, a natural flair when it comes to evil… A deplorable sense of humor, though his side of that contains more puns and less of the macabre."

That was something Dashi could absolutely believe.

"But he's not simply an imitation of me. Jack Spicer is his own self—he is not as ruthless as I am and probably will never be so. He has a vitality about him that is especially rare and he is so…open with his emotions that it sometimes boggles my mind."

By this point, Spicer was just showing off and had perched atop the floating device to literally look down on the crowd that had gathered to watch. An unquestionably fond expression crossed the dragonlord's face.

"He has changed me," Chase told Dashi. "Softened me, perhaps, but not in any ways that matter; I have not _gone _soft."

"Wouldn't dream of suggesting as much," the ghost assured him.

Chase ignored the ribbing in his tone. "I foresee success with him," he said simply. "He was such a pest to me as a child, but as a man… No one in fifteen-hundred years has measured up to the potential I feel with Jack by my side."

"The first in more than a thousand years, huh?" Dashi's words had a pointed weight to them as he suggested, "Doesn't seem like the kind of rarity to come along twice, don't you think?"

"You do me a disservice to assume I haven't had the same thought, brother." Chase then proceeded to flip Dashi's world upside down a second time by casually stating, "I'm working on that."

"Good gods, Chase, you are just…dropping bombs on me left and right today. What's next?" he asked. "Did you get him pregnant? More importantly, are _you _pregnant? I don't think it'd surprise me at this rate."

"You are an irritant, Dashi, and I have no need of you," Chase told him cheerfully. "Please, begone and stay out of my sight for another few hundred years at the least."

"You should _be _so lucky," said the grand master monk. "This whole thing you've got going on…? I think I've decided it bears looking in on."

Chase frowned. "No."

"Oh, yes. I'll be back," Dashi informed him with yet another fist-attracting face, "and one of these days, you're gonna introduce me to him!"

"Of course. 'Jack, this is Dashi, Grand Master Pain in the Ass. I have yet to find a spell to make him fuck off permanently, so you may have to put up with his unpleasant face from time to time.'"

"My face is perfectly pleasant," Dashi protested, "and has it slipped your mind that we were twins?"

"_Not _identical," Chase reminded, "for which I am thankful every single day."

Dashi snickered. "That's cold, brother."

"_Evil, _brother."

"Whatever. I guess you don't need me to meddle this time—"

"Absolutely _not._"

"—so I'll get out of your hair. Oh, and not a moment too soon." Dashi pointed. "Science Rockstar Mob at ten o'clock."

Chase turned even as Dashi's sudden disappearance sent a small ripple of energy throughout the immediate area. What he'd said had been accurate and Jack was currently fending off about a dozen hangers-on intent on asking him questions and trying to discuss details, with several more already approaching.

Chase wasted no time in keeping his promise to scare them off, most with only his intimidating presence and the more persistent of the bunch with an icy stare and the faux-polite query of, "Can I help you?"

No one kept after Spicer following that.

Jack let out a sigh that may have been only partially exaggerated. "So, yeah, believe me about the science-groupies now?"

Chase looked at him. "I had no cause to doubt you in the first place."

"Well, most people I've mentioned it to are of the highly uneducated opinion that 'they're geeks, how bad can they be?'" Jack scoffed loudly. "My people have the capacity to be terrifying, especially in large numbers."

"A bit like Tusken Raiders, then."

Jack promptly stopped breathing for long enough that his master grew concerned. "Oh, sweet Jesus, Chase," he said at length, "I…I don't even have words for how much I love you right now."

Chase raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm not sure how I feel about this declaration coming after a Star Wars reference instead of after I rescued you from 'your people.'"

"Which was very heroic and awesome of you," Jack conceded, "so yeah, thanks for that, too."

"Of course. What kind of man would I be if I weren't willing to defend my xin ái in a pinch?"

And that was enough to bring Jack to a full stop, all but frozen in place. Probably because this was the very first time _ever _that Chase had named him his beloved.

This go around, it took an actual slap to the back to make the goth start breathing again, at which point he could only _stare._

"Chase…" he muttered, sounding shocked and hopeful and disbelieving all at once.

The dragonlord only smirked at him and slipped an arm around his waist. "Now, I'm no romantic, Jack," he admitted, "but I _believe _we're having what's known as a 'moment.' No need to ruin it."

"I…" Jack closed his mouth and seemed to space out for a bit before just leaning up against Chase's side. "Yeah, moments are good."

Chase pressed a quick kiss to his consort's temple and was then incredibly pleased when the next words out of Jack were a halting, "So…I, uh, saw this hedge maze outside…and I thought maybe…"

"Say no more, Spicer," he purred, already leading the way. "You absolutely read my mind."

Jack responded with a dazzling smile and followed eagerly—and really, if what occurred in the maze was any indication of how the goth was going to react to being called 'xin ái' regularly, Chase had that much more incentive to say it as often as possible.

Chase did go on to say it many more times, mostly for the supremely fantastic results it got him. If he'd thought being complimented was the most effective turn-on for Jack, it was only because he hadn't yet witnessed how he got after an open declaration of love.

With all the passionate and spontaneous sex that was suddenly going on, though, Chase did find the progress on his little pet project slowed to a crawl. Considering where he already was with it (and what time spent working on it was being replaced with), he couldn't bring himself to regret the delay all _that _much.

Besides, the day came soon enough that it was finished. The research was done, the resources gathered, full-disclosure given, and sputtering, enthusiastic consent received.

Two years and almost three weeks after being accepted into Chase's service, Jack Spicer was granted eternal youth.

Surprisingly enough, the biggest trouble in making Jack immortal hadn't been in finding the means. To the contrary, spells to make one live forever were everywhere if you only knew the correct places to look. The problem was in the _cost, _which was rarely worth the benefit.

Chase had encountered several beings who had bought time for themselves without considering the ramifications: a decrepit crone who had accepted eternal life but overlooked eternal youth, a king who had bargained to be long-lived and was transfigured into a clam who did go on to live for another four-hundred years, and a lusty, once-old man who wished to have his youth back and was now perpetually a child; denied all of his favorite pleasures due to his apparent age.

Chase counted himself rather lucky that all _he'd _lost in his deal with the devil was his soul and his humanity, but neither were something he would choose to make his consort lose.

Ultimately, though, he was able to find a way to pull it off and achieve immortality for Jack _without _the terrible price tag. Chase did this mainly by way of another binding spell, similar to the one he'd cast in making Jack his apprentice—and in fact, the new one served to dissolve the old one, leaving the goth's arms utterly bare of Heylin runes once again.

Chase may have considered the fact that Spicer was now entirely free to act against him cause for concern, at one time. Now, he deemed it unlikely, if not because of Jack's devotion to him, then for the minor detail of Jack's life-force now being bound directly to his.

Jack had quipped that the spell made him something of a leech, piggybacking on the magicks that kept Chase alive and young in defiance of the passage of time. Chase had retorted that the analogy was ridiculous because you couldn't kill a leech and watch it come back to life simply because the last thing it had fed on was still alive.

That kind of caveat had been very important to Chase in his research and it was why he hadn't settled for anything less than a binding that would fend off death from causes outside of old age. The best option he'd found in that vein was a regenerative clause that would automatically siphon energy from Chase to repair any serious damage Jack's body might suffer.

They had yet to determine how much it would take to resurrect Jack from an actual death, but considering a cracked sternum resulted in only a few seconds of vertigo and a broken arm worked out to Chase feeling vaguely nauseous for a minute and then feeling fine, neither of them believed it was something that couldn't be handled.

Thusly secure in the knowledge that the only way for Jack to be killed was to kill Chase first, the dragonlord saw little harm in letting his beloved off of the chain for awhile to enjoy his new invulnerability.

Jack had never been a daredevil due to the general fragility of his body, but since the second binding he'd been bouncing off the walls to try all sorts of crazy and dangerous things he'd been too afraid to do.

Last Chase had heard of him, Jack was talking animatedly about sky-diving and zip-lining all the way out the door. Chase himself had opted for a much quieter night in, reading a favorite book beside the fireplace in his study and waiting for his lover to return.

If nothing else, it was overwhelmingly peaceful so the moment when that peace was shattered by a sudden, ominous crawling sensation instantly put Chase on full alert.

Deadly calm, Chase shut his book, set it aside, and looked up to meet the jaundiced red eyes of Hannibal Roy Bean.

"Bean," he greeted coolly.

"Young," the creature returned, sitting on the loveseat opposite him as if he belonged there, in _Chase's _home.

It was infuriating to watch, so Chase very purposefully refused to give him the agitation he was looking for. He relaxed further into his chair instead, crossed one leg over the other, and breezily noted, "I'm fairly certain I put up wards to keep you out."

Bean smiled broadly, an unsettling thing full of crooked yellow teeth. "I did feel a bit of a tickle on my way in," he drawled. "Was that what that was?"

Chase couldn't help his scowl and of course, Hannibal laughed.

"Now, now, Chase," he admonished, "no need to get all bent out of shape. I ain't here for a fight."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really." Bean seemed to realize that this wasn't enough to convince Chase and he made a sweeping gesture towards himself. "C'mon now, you _know _how much I hate this form."

Which Chase did know to be true. Currently, the Heylin entity sat across from his former student in a body much more humanoid than usual, appearing to be nothing more than a bald, middle-aged man. It was still useless as a disguise because of its likeness to Bean's true appearance, but Hannibal had always lauded its worth in making people feel more at ease around him.

He had to know that such a tactic would not work on Chase, so there would be little other reason to wear that shape than as a symbolic gesture; a peace offering of sorts.

Chase still wasn't sure he believed it (and suspicion had always served him well with Bean), but…as far as skill and power went, the two of them were on fairly equal footing. A true fight between them could drag on for days and would probably leave the immediate area a mess of rubble.

He decided there was no real need to escalate things to that level—not unless Bean escalated them first. He just so happened to be fond of this den and it would be quite a shame to have to use that fire iron to skewer Hannibal like a kebab: it might bend the metal.

This is mind, Chase was wary but frigidly cordial as he invited, "By all means, then, tell me what you _are _here for."

Bean's smile returned and he casually sprawled out on the loveseat. "Oh," he said, "nothing in particular, I suppose. I've just been…reminiscing about the good ol' days. Or," he paused to chuckle, "the _bad _ol' days, as the case may be."

Chase remained silent, waiting for him to go on.

"It finally dawned on me, I think. How much things have changed since then." He smirked at Chase, smarmy and knowing all at once. "Seems just like yesterday I was making you _my _immortal apprentice, and now you've gone and made one of your own."

That was his game, then? Chase straightened and narrowed his eyes at Bean. "What do you want with Spicer?" he demanded.

"Absolutely nothing," Hannibal promised. "What I'm here for is you, Chase."

And really, that didn't bode well in the slightest. "I truly hope you're not about to tell me how much you've missed me and how you'll change your ways if I just come back to you," Chase said, his tone dry as a desert.

Bean again seemed amused and shook his head. "No, boy," and Chase snorted, but really, he _was_ the younger of the two. "Y'see, I think I've always regretted the way things…ended between us, so I thought it might be a nice gesture to wish you better luck than I had. Lord knows I wasn't able to hold onto _you _for very long, but maybe it'd be nice if you got to keep your student awhile."

Chase assessed his words briefly. As always, Hannibal's sincerity was too sketchy to be certain of. He could be lying through his teeth, atypically candid, or anywhere in between, so Chase resolved not to bother thinking about Bean's supposed lament.

Instead, he focused on the insinuation the other 'man' had made—that he might not be capable of keeping Jack—and scoffed. "There is no parallel between now and then," Chase contended. "Your 'well-wishing' is unnecessary."

Hannibal frowned. "Is that so?"

Chase fixed him with an unimpressed look. "The only reason I ever became your apprentice was because you lured me with promises of superiority," he reminded. "My goal has always been to be the best there is and I used you to further that goal as much as you used me. You had to have realized that as long as I remained your student and not a master in my own right, you could've never delivered on your promise to make me the best. Our…arrangement," declared the overlord, "was always a temporary one."

Bean glowered at him a bit, but made no attempt to refute the claim. "What about Spicer then?" he asked. "What's he after that makes you so sure he won't slip his leash?"

"Spicer's goal is the same as it's always been," Chase answered simply. "He's after _me. _He'd accept any leash gladly as long as I'm the one at the other end of it."

"After _you,_" Bean echoed wonderingly. "And that's a promise you can deliver on? Can he really have you someday?"

Chase shrugged. "He has most of me _now,_" he admitted. "I can't even imagine how much he'll have in a few decades."

Surprisingly enough, Bean responded with another laugh. "That is Jack's way, isn't it? Starts out one big bother, but he grows on you 'til you couldn't quite imagine things without him."

Chase coolly agreed and very deliberately did not let on that the real bother was hearing his greatest rival speak of his lover like a sentimental object.

"You know," Bean told him, "I find it just a bit odd that you're owning up to all this about Spicer. I'd have sworn blind I'd have to pry it out of you. You aren't worried I'll do something nasty, like use him against you?"

"You forget that I know you, Hannibal," said Chase. "I know very well that you have your ways of obtaining information. Considering Jack isn't something I intend to hide, you'd have found out everything I've said eventually. As for using him against me…" He gave his former master a razor-sharp grin. "Well, you're welcome to _try. _I already have the assurance that he cannot go to death unless I go first. Anything else you could inflict on him is absolutely reparable."

"A very smart binding on your part," Bean complimented. He then sat up a bit straighter and firmly announced, "Lucky for you, I don't aim to try anything with your beloved apprentice."

Chase went rigid and immediately hoped Bean took it as reticent confusion rather than surprise at so accurately hitting on the 'beloved' part. In reality, it was both but Chase had been teased enough over having a xin ái by his brother—he didn't need it from _Hannibal, _too.

Thankfully, Bean's interpretation seemed to be the first one and he leaned forward as if to impart a secret. "See, that kind of thing—using people as leverage—isn't much my style. It's just more fun to manipulate on an intrapersonal scale, and what's more, going after Spicer to get to you would send the wrong message: I start using Jack to get your goat, and all of sudden people start talking like I'm too much a coward to go after you in the first place or that I just plain _couldn't _take you."

He clucked his tongue. "No, we can't have that. You have my word that no matter what I've got planned for the future," and he did, he always had plans, he never stopped scheming, "your Spicer will be left out of it. Unless, of course, he interferes directly and then all bets are off, but I'm sure you understand that."

Chase raised an eyebrow at the oath, knowing 'too good to be true' when he heard it. "Awfully kind of you to promise me that, Bean," he noted. "Even with the matter of your pride at stake, a vow such as that might almost be taken as an act of goodwill."

"Well, now, no need to go that far. Consider it a gift," Bean suggested pleasantly, "from one master to another. Besides, who's to say I'm _against _a rise in our immortal ranks?" He got to his feet, his grin only vaguely mocking now. "Congratulations on your…acquisition, Young."

And with a theatric bow, the embodiment of Heylin evil masquerading as a man was gone.

Chase let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and tiredly raked a hand through his hair. It was, perhaps, an understatement to say that he really, truly hated it when Bean dropped by unannounced.

Even so, he couldn't truthfully say he'd had a better visit from the wretched legume. Bean was actually something approaching _civil _this time!

The whole thing was very, very odd and Chase wasn't yet entirely sure what to make of it.

Naturally, that was about when the door to the study was flung open and Jack burst in, wild-eyed and in extremely high spirits.

"Chase!" he exclaimed, practically bouncing into his overlord's lap. "Seriously, this 'having you as a safety net even when you're not around' thing is beyond awesome. Freaking _sky-diving, _Chase!"

Chase settled his hands on Jack's hips and tried very hard not to laugh. "Developed a new appreciation for thrill-seeking, have we?"

"Fuck yes! Next time," Jack declared very sternly, "you are coming with me. I will not accept any excuses."

"Well, if you insist."

"I totally do, and another thing I'm insisting on, like right now, is food. I have just been so damn hungry all day, it's insane." He slowed down enough to consider what he'd just said. "Hey! Do you think maybe the binding upped my metabolism to your level?"

"I suppose it's possible," Chase allowed.

Jack jumped back off of his master. "Oh my god, _yes,_" he said, looking all keyed up again. "If my body's burning energy at the same rate as yours, that's… Where do we keep the ice cream?"

Chase blinked. "What?"

"The ice cream, where is it?" Jack demanded to know. "And how much do we have in the palace? 'cause I've decided to eat, just _all _of it."

"…why?"

"I'm hungry and I have a super-charged metabolism! What else am I supposed to do with it?"

After the day he'd had, Chase couldn't help it: he dropped his face into his hand and _laughed._

Jack paused his manic conduct to watch him with a frown. "Is this hysterical laughter?" he wondered. "Did I break you? I didn't mean to, I mean, sure, I guess I don't have to eat _all _the ice cream if you want some, too, or something. Or are you upset I didn't stay home and hang out with you? Because I can hang out with you now, I am so damn wired, I don't think I'll be going to bed for a couple hours. Hey, I got it! Let's take the ice cream, a couple of good movies and just, just combine it and celebrate like—"

Chase stopped him with a hand over his mouth. "Calm down, xin ái," he entreated, still grinning faintly. "You're going to pass out if you don't stop to breathe."

Jack hesitated for a minute when his hand pulled back, clearly torn between being having been made to shut up and hearing the designation he loved so much. "So…" he eventually managed, "you _don't _want to celebrate?"

Chase looked up at his consort who looked back at him with huge, hopeful eyes and he let a wave of contentment wash over him without struggle.

"No," he said, getting to his feet, "_let's _celebrate. I think it's very much called for."

After all, today was the day that Jack Spicer, his attractive lover, skilled apprentice, and like-minded companion had consented to an eternity by his side.

Chase followed Jack out of the study, listening as he resumed his animated chatter about flavors of ice cream and the many different options for movies they could watch and how there should really be more cinematic choices wherein the bad guys win because seriously, the good guys can't win _every _time, that's just not realistic!

It was not the sort of thing Chase ever would have planned for himself, but it had found him anyway and though he never would've expected it, it was…nice.

There was a lot in that to celebrate.

**A/N: SAME AS LAST CHAPTER  
**

**Anyway, I'd just like to dedicate this piece to the lovely Silvarbelle because I was inspired to write it because of her birthday. Clearly, I need to stop setting myself deadlines like that because they straight-up don't happen, but whatever. **

**As for the story itself, I have two overarching notes about it.**

**First of all, I noticed something I have a tendency to do when writing a Chack story and that's to center a fic around Jack. I don't necessarily put it in his direct point of view (though I have before), but the action and the focus is generally on him, probably because he's my favorite character. After this occurred to me, I started wondering what it would be like to write something from a general Chase-perspective just to switch things up, so this whole thing is basically an experiment in focus for me. Hope it turned out alright! **

**Second of all, when I was coming up for the original idea for this and doing the outline, it was _supposed_ to be one big Shovel Talk fic: as in, 'I have a shovel, a shotgun, and five acres to bury you in if you break his heart.' However, I say it was 'supposed' to be that because once I started writing it, none of the other characters actually had the balls to threaten Chase. They point things out, give subtle advice, and make suggestions, but not a single. Damn. One of them. Had the nerve to actually threaten him, which I just find really hilarious. XD**

**So, to make a long story short, this is me taking a shot at Chase-centric Chack and having it end up nowhere near where I thought it was going.**

**This was not really written to be split up into chunks, but length-requirements kind of force my hand in this case. That means that this is PART THREE.**

**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! :D**


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